


Share Your Silence

by cruelest_month



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon, Companionable Snark, Falling In Love, Formerly Tranquil Inquisitor, Friendship/Love, Humor, M/M, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Romance, Slow Build, lots of swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 06:31:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 49
Words: 211,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2802887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruelest_month/pseuds/cruelest_month
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Tranquil went into the Fade. Eilan Trevelyan walked out. And even with all of Thedas thrown into chaos, recovering the parts of himself that he lost might be his greatest challenge. But no one said he had to do it alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's go with [this picture](http://maby-chan.deviantart.com/art/Male-Elsa-436480535?ga_submit_new=10%253A1393281761) and [ this picture](http://bansheesbones.tumblr.com/post/73938261867/my-version-of-genderbent-elsa-from-frozen-hope) in terms of this Trevelyan's looks. 
> 
> I do not have a decent screenshot of this Trevelyan because for me it has been very difficult to make an attractive human male in DAI. Especially one with white hair. I gave up and went with a redhead for my current, actual play-thru. I might actually try creating this character using the Saints Row IV character creation and then just taking some pictures. Because.

*

As he slept, there had been words and singing. Hands lightly touching him, shaking him awake. He had tried to keep sleeping, to cling to the dreams he had, even the bad ones. At first, he couldn’t stop shaking, mumbling nonsense under his breath. The elf watched him and the dwarf all but fussed over him. And a red-haired woman came in his cell at night and sang to him when he couldn’t manage sleep. Her singing was different than the first voice, but soothing all the same. And he cried out apologies and thanks and hushed only when they told him stories, colorful distractions from how he felt.

Then they went away and the shackles came. And the guards. And another woman. And she was demanding answers from him.

He didn’t know. He didn’t remember. Everything inside and out felt so raw, scratched open and bleeding. He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes and curled up again. He wanted to savor the colors. To laugh because now he could laugh, and yet all he seemed to be able to do was cry.

There was talking going on around him. Over him. But he felt smothered and shaky. And cold. So cold. There was ice over his hands and it was from him. His magic. He bit down ruthlessly on another sob, and yet the sound still escaped his lips.

A hand touched his shoulder, and Eilan felt the warmth of it even through the wool of his tunic and the leather of the man’s glove. He felt so much. He felt everything.

The manacles clanked to the floor as the man removed them. “We could have handled this better.”

Eilan forced his hands away from his face, managing a nod as he stared up. They could have. She could have.

The man flinched, eyes looking elsewhere as Eilan wiped at his face. “I’m sorry. We’re sorry. You clearly need time to recover and being ambushed this way... Listen, Trevelyan, you need not feel compelled to answer every question.”

“Eilan.”

“Right. Eilan. I remember you. I’m Commander Rutherford but… you can just call me Cullen.”

And somehow that was comforting.

“Can you… Here.” The man grabbed a blanket from somewhere behind him. He ripped it into strips and wrapped them around Eilan’s hands.

“I’m glad you’re not turning the rest of us into icicles, but hurting yourself isn’t going to help either. It’s going to be all right.”

The Seeker sighed. “Cullen.”

“Cassandra.”

“We have no time to coddle the prisoner. And whether it will be all right or not remains entirely unclear. You cannot fix this by simply saying you will.”

“And why not?,” Cullen insisted. “We took a lot of risks bringing him here. We lost a lot of people. If what Solas says is true, we stand a fighting chance. So don’t we owe him a little mercy before we ask so much of him? Isn’t that the entire point of this?”

The Seeker didn’t answer.

“I for one want to try… I want to do this differently. So why not approach the situation with a little optimism? Frightening the man out of his wits is as unkind as it is foolish.”

“I need to know--”

“Back off, Seeker.” The dwarf. Varric. He’d been an oddly comforting presence from stories to sneaking in better food for his ‘fellow prisoner.’ “He doesn’t know anything.”

“We have witnesses to his stumbling out of the Fade, Cassandra. A woman helped him through but he arrived without a scratch or bloodstain on him. There is no evidence to suggest he is a murderer, and you can add me to the list of those who observed him at the Conclave. I saw the mark.”

“What you need, you will not find here.” Solas. As he managed to move into a sitting position, Eilan took comfort in the elf still being in the room. He ought to have felt some shame falling to pieces in front of perfect strangers but that was nothing compared to the shame he felt at what he had become. “You desire an enemy but what you have here is a victim. And a potentially powerful ally if you do not torment him. You are fortunate, just as he is that the magic he possesses, like all magic, is ancient. He struggles only with his emotions. They are new to him.”

“Great but it’s not even that complicated, Chuckles." Varric again. "The kid can help and probably will help if you don’t keep him locked up down here. Honestly, Seeker, your technique could use a lot of work."

Cassandra sighed. “It could at that.”

Eilan looked down. “I’m not… I'm s--”

“Don’t,” Varric said in a flinty tone. “Don’t you dare apologize to her. You didn’t do a damn thing.”

Eilan stared at the green glow of his right hand. He must have done something. How else was he so changed? “I was... Wasn’t I... different before?”

“Tranquil,” Cullen said somberly. “Yes.”

“Is the mark still there?” 

Cullen’s hand gently brushed hair away from Eilan’s forehead. “Gone.” 

“There’s the obvious changes, of course,” a voice added from the doorway. The woman was hooded, red hair peering out underneath. She was the one who had sang to him. “And adjustments to be made.” 

"We do know you are no longer Tranquil. What we think is that the mark on your hand can help with…. Maker, there is much to explain once…” Cullen cleared his throat. “Once you’re feeling… well, once you’re feeling less.” 

Never. Painful though it was, he never wanted to feel less than he did at that moment. Or, at least, Eilan wanted the option. He just wanted to be able to manage the feelings properly. “How could this help?” 

Solas cleared his throat. “When you’re ready to go out of doors—” 

“Outside. Can I go outside?” He hadn’t wanted to be outside since… He couldn’t remember when. There was no real need to be outside of he didn’t need supplies, and it was far easier to requisition them. If he required research materials, they were brought to him. It was more efficient. 

Cullen exchanged a look with both women before shrugging. “Solas?” 

“Fresh air won’t harm him, however I do not think much more can be asked of him.”

*

“Give me that,” Cassandra demanded. “Now.”

Eilan hesitated, but he had no interest in arguing with her or provoking a fight. He gave her the staff, hands shaking. The bandages he’d been given had come undone during the skirmish, the remnants of them lay tattered on the ground. The man… Cullen… He’d gone on ahead. So had Varric.

Solas was dusting himself off, shivering slightly but he seemed oddly amused by being buried under a small avalanche of snow. The smile faded quickly and the older mage sighed, moving to stand between Cassandra and Eilan. “Well, as I said, he can still do magic although practice would be best.”

“I am terribly sorry, Solas.”

“No harm was done nor was any intended. Now come. More important tasks await us. That is, if the Seeker is finished?”

Solas didn’t wait for her to answer before moving on ahead, but Eilan did. He stood there, watching her fretfully as she gave him a look that was softer than a glare but about as friendly.

Eilan felt only slightly pathetic when the elf came back and took his hand, leading him away. Their hand-holding lasted very, very briefly, contact gone as instantly as it had arrived. Just enough to herd him along the path. 

It took everything Eilan had not to thank him. Or cry again. It was… He’d gotten used to a cringing sort of pity. The sort that involved staring and absolutely no touching. Not that he’d craved touch or anything at all. Instead he would smile, trying to put the person or persons before him at ease for what little good it did. He’d accepted their lack of understanding the same way he accepted everything else. And here, even if the Seeker seemed to not know what to make of him, he’d been treated kindly enough.

Cassandra was slow to follow them, perhaps a little confused by the whole exchange. It was just as well.

Solas looked back over his shoulder at Eilan. “You might have kept the staff. Why did you give it back?”

“It wasn’t worth creating a fuss over. It was upsetting her.”

Cassandra offered up a disgusted grunt. “I am not upset. Here is the staff, Trevelyan. I have no use for it and...there are enemies up ahead.” The warrior stalked past them after shoving the staff into his hands. She muttered something under her breath, but Eilan couldn’t make out what it was.

“Should I really… Should I be allowed a staff?"

“Should you not be allowed a staff?" Solas asked.

Eilan stared down at the wooden one in his hands. Simple. Standard Circle issue, really. Wooden. Plain. There was but no blade and very little in the way of ornamentation. And yet holding it in his hands was soothing. He could rest his fingers on the ram leather grip and see a bit of glittering dawnstone. He could even sense the infused lyrium. “I don't know. I didn't learn too many spells before the Rite.”

“You are a mage. Whatever you experienced in the Fade has brought you here and helped to restore yourself to you. Your magic is a significant portion of that along with how you feel. You were born and you will remain a magical being always. It is a blessing and it is a curse, but most importantly, it is what you are. And the person who will decide what you become is you.”

“I can’t help but feel that I’m decidedly going to become a menace if I can’t cast spells properly.”

Solas smiled briefly. “It is fortunate you can cast at all. Save for hitting me with the equivalent of a very large snowball, you did well. It is also true that you require time that we do not have. So the training will come as we work.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not, in fact, have a beta. That might change but any errors, typos, what-have-yous are mine.This fic is a monster and I have about 52 pages of it already. I'm in the middle of In Your Heart Shall Burn at the moment. 
> 
> Anyhow, and in an effort to end this note, the original idea behind this came from two things - 
> 
> 1\. A kink meme prompt for a [Tranquil Inquisitor](http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/11864.html?thread=46514520#t46514520). While the OP was open to a male Inquisitor, I have no idea how they would feel about this pairing.
> 
> 2\. What you learn about [ocularum](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Codex_entry:_Oculara) when/if you go into the abandoned house in Redcliffe. In my play-thru, Cassandra was the only one with a reaction, observing that someone ought to have kept track of the Tranquil. No one else seemed to have much of an issue and I'm not sure it ever comes up. If I'm wrong, and I would love to be, please let me know.


	2. Chapter 2

*

After stabilizing the Breach, blacking out, and then recovering once again, Eilan woke up in Haven. To his surprise and, with Cassandra’s tacit approval, he was allowed to wander around.

He spent several days like that, trying to get to know the men and women who had brought him there. The people he met were polite if awkward around and to him. Many regarded him strangely, almost reverently, and oddly hopeful since he was being hailed as the Herald of Andraste. Somehow everyone knew about him. Even what he had been. It was discomforting to have so many eyes on him. It felt like they were crawling on him like little spiders and—

He took a moment to close his eyes and breathe. Solas had warned him everything would be like this. That he needed to pace himself. It was like learning to swim for the first time. You could fight all you liked against the water, but if you couldn’t learn to move with it, you would drown.

Eilan couldn’t quite figure Solas out, but he thought he liked the elf. Those first few days had been so awkward. All Eilan to do was howl and cry and rage. And all Solas would do at first was watch unlike Varric who dealt with emotional damage but attempting to stomp it out of existence with ridiculously improbable Hawke stories.

Solas had just observed at first, head tilted and eyes impossible to read. Slowly he moved closed as though approaching a very wounded animal. Then eventually when loud sounds gave way to exhausted silence, the elf had sat beside him. Then the elf had spoken to him about the Fade, every one of those beautiful, haunting memories feeling so real and so perfect. All of it an odd sort of proof that now Eilan was a person again.

Shortly before being questioned by Cassandra, Solas had said: “You would have as many stories for me as there are hours in a day.”

“They’re comforting. Especially the ones about spirits.”

Solas had smiled, the expression seeming more genuine than it had before. “You mustn’t cling too hard to stories. There is much to do. But I will continue to tell you about my experiences as time permits when we leave here.”

“Leave here? You’ll come with?”

There was a long, drawn-out silence. “I will come with. I would not leave you now.”

“Thank you.”

Solas had nodded solemnly.

For the time being, however, Eilan decided to leave Solas alone. If only because he didn’t want to wear out his welcome. They’d been training together on occasion, primarily on ways to utilize the anchor in relation to his spells. He considered badgering Varric for another tale about the Champion of Kirkwall, but again… He didn’t know if he ought to do so every single day.

That left him with a few options and he blushed when he decided upon his obvious and first choice. Considering the weather and realizing that once again he lacked a decent enough reason to watch Cullen spar, he went to the kitchens and got hot chocolate. The Commander never seemed to mind him stopping by, but being kind could only improve matters between them.

“I see how it is. We’re practically joined at the hip when we’re in prison but as soon as we’re released, I’m chopped nug-liver.” Varric called out as Eilan started to pass him by.

“No I…just… I thought I would bother someone else.”

“Pretty sure listening to someone talk for long periods of time, laughing at their jokes, and asking for more stories is the opposite of bothering a storyteller. What’s really going on? Afraid I’ll run out of Hawke adventures and be forced to make shit up?”

Eilan smiled. “Make shit up? Not you.”

Varric smirked. “I could give it a try for your sake. So… Going to visit a friend, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Curly’s going to catch on one of these days.”

“I know but…” As unlikely as it seemed that anything would develop even if Cullen did somehow figure out why he was of so much interest to Eilan… Well, the mage was done denying or hiding or smothering who he was. Or how he felt. It was one of the many promises he’d made himself that had gotten him to stop crying on the floor of his cell.

This second chance was real. There was no telling if it would last. No way to avoid moments of pain or misery, but every single emotion was worth feeling. Worth savoring now in ways it had never been before. And he mourned for his old Tranquil self who had never felt pain and always felt perfectly fine. For the things he’d tolerated and come to expect in a cold, logical way.

“Hey, you should try having as many crushes as you want. Just not on me. Or Hawke.”

Eilan laughed. “I think you’re safe.”

“Ouch.”

“You’d break my heart in a second and you know it.”

“That’s fair. But don’t think I notice you didn’t say no to Hawke.”

“It sounds like most people don’t.”

Varric barked out a laugh. “That’s more accurate than you know.”

*

Cullen was out on the field, arms crossed as he considered the recruits. He winced as Eilan approached, eyes focused on a recruit who was having some difficulty managing a sword and shield both apart and in tandem. “Sweet Maker, why? Why must he keep doing that? He’s going to cut his own arm off.”

“Just one arm?”

Cullen sighed, his expression softening a bit when he looked down at the mug being thrust at him. “Oh good. You’re a bit late, you know.”

“Am I?”

“Yes. You’re usually out here much earlier. I was beginning to wonder what happened to you.”

“Sorry, Commander.”

“You ought to be,” Cullen said with a smile. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Eilan glanced out at the recruits, sipping his drink.

“Enough,” Cullen barked out. “Mabry, so help me, put that weapon down before you deprive me of someone useful. And stay still. Right where you are. The rest of you take a break. You’ve managed to earn one.” He sighed, handing his mug over. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck.”

“And don’t set my drink down in a snowdrift if you see happen to spot some elfroot.”

“I would never.”

“You absolutely have.”

Eilan just grinned as Cullen strode forward to help Mabry out. He watched them face off against one another, frowning slightly as it occurred to him that he was terribly out of practice. He was still frowning when Cullen came back.

“It’s not what you think. To get results you have to be a bit harsh,” Cullen said, looking a little sheepish.

“It’s…not that.”

“What is it then?”

“I just wonder how well I’ll do. I don’t remember the Conclave and there’s still a giant hole in the sky. Should I be allowed to do so much for the Inquisition? Am I considered a mage or…?”

“If what you went through doesn’t count as a Harrowing, I’m not sure what would. As for what you’re allowed to do, I should hope you’d be open to suggestions... All the same, you’re a very important part of all this. We needed Cassandra and we still do. And I certainly couldn’t have gotten very far without Josephine or Leliana but only one of us can seal a breach.”

Eilan nodded woodenly. It felt like he would never cease to be defined by a mark, whether it was on his hand or his forehead.

“I have to say-- And I know it's still early days for the Inquisition, but thus far, I’m glad you’re the one that can. That whoever did the choosing selected someone like you.”

Eilan glanced over at Cullen. “Someone like me?”

“There are plenty of people, mage or templar, who wouldn’t be able to handle the responsibility. You’re recovering and still struggling and yet you’re here. I would not help the people responsible for what happened to me even indirectly. Not right away.”

Eilan looked away. “I can’t hold every templar responsible let alone all of Thedas. What’s happening is so much more than what I’ve gone through. Solas says I have to forgive and accept for my own sake. But I cannot, should not forget. What happened to me… He says I need to remember that always.”

“He’s probably right.”

“In part it was the Circle. I wasn't very pleased to be there. I made no effort to behave. In part it was my family. A Trevelyan has no business being a mage.”

Cullen blinked. And then his expression hardened. “Your family… They…”

“Played a part in arranging it, yes. Perhaps they thought it best,” Eilan said quietly. "By the time I knew, I didn't mind. What was done was done."

Cullen swallowed hard but he didn’t say anything.

Eilan looked away out at the frozen lake ahead of them. “At any rate, I want to help. I want to make things better if I can. And I don’t want to be a burden. Or any trouble.”

“Right. Honestly, I don’t think you’ll be trouble. I can’t imagine you being a burden.”

“Thank you.” He wanted so badly to flirt, but he couldn’t remember how. It felt more foreign to him than his own magic did. He wanted to kiss Cullen, even chastely, but it was too soon. It was just that there was so much about Cullen he liked at that moment. Cullen was such a good, kind person. He must have been a good templar. Had to have been, but something kept Eilan from saying as much. He’d yet to ask anything about it, really.

“You’re welcome.” The recruits came shuffling back and seemed ready to resume their training. “Unfortunately, I have more work ahead of me that requires me to send you elsewhere.”

“Elsewhere?” Eilan asked.

“I’d rather talk to you, if you can believe it,” Cullen said cheerfully. “At any rate, you’ll manage. There’s iron to be had and there’s a logging stand you’ll want to check out. It’s just due north of here. And more herbs along the way. Or something shiny you’ll want to pick up.”

“You make me sound like a demented magpie.”

“Aren’t you?” Cullen teased before clearing his throat. The soldiers were standing idle and watching them. “When do you leave for Val Royeaux?”

“This afternoon.”

“Travel safely.”

“I will.”

*

There was brief lull in traveling from one point to another when they finally recruited the Iron Bull and his Chargers. Eilan had liked the people he’d met even if he wasn’t sure how much they liked him or how long they’d assist the Inquisition. They’d all given him weird looks upon meeting him. Different looks, but all equally weird. Every single one had looked for signs of the mark on his forehead and then stared down at the mark on his hand. 

Vivienne had made several callous remarks. Sera had made some tactless observations. Eilan had been avoiding the Iron Bull for the most part, unsure what the Qunari would say. And not really wanting too much of his life ending up in a Ben-Hassrath reports.

All the same, when the Iron Bull spoke to him it was friendly enough. The Iron Bull was oddly approachable and what he said was usually true. And it was hard to dislike someone who had given up an eye for someone shortly after meeting them.

As for the other new recruits, Eilan's wounded reactions seemed to convinced Vivienne to be more mocking in her tone and slightly less biting. Sera had been a little put-out mostly because she hadn't intended or actually wanted to make him miserable. She just wanted a reaction, good or bad. Thankfully she had found other strange side projects with which to occupy her time.

While the days were manageable, Eilan had difficulties at night now that Solas or Varric weren't merely an arm's length away. He had strange dreams that hinted at the things he couldn't remember. Sometimes it was spiders chasing him through a green tear. Sometimes it was a woman begging him to run. 

On the Storm Coast, it had been even worse and he’d woken up one night, soaked in icy sweat.

He’d left camp, washing up in a nearby stream before going down to the sea. He collected spindleweed and blood lotus until his hands ached. Then he’d just stared at the waves, feeling ill-at-ease.

“You doing all right, boss?”

Eilan had blinked and then nodded stupidly at the Qunari.

“Good. Not that I was listening or anything but obviously I was listening and you were…”

“I wasn’t having a great night, no.”

There was a patch of silence and then: “What usually helps me is beating the shit out of something. Or letting something beat the shit out of me. Or sex. Lots of sex is pretty great.”

“I’ll... have to try these methods out.”

“You might like ‘em,” the Iron Bull agreed.

Eilan got to his feet. He slung his pouch of herbs along his shoulder then crossed his arms as the Qunari moved slightly closer. “Um. Is it-- It must be strange. For you.”

The Iron Bull raised his eyebrow. “Hearing someone having a rough night? Nah. I’ve caused my share of them. Usually they were a different sort though. If I made someone make the sounds you were making, well, I guess I’d have to beat the shit out of myself.”

“Not… Not that. My being a mage.”

“Huh? Oh. The whole Qunari thing. Right,” Bull mumbled. He sighed heavily. “I guess it is strange. Dunno. In your case, I already knew and finding it odd now seems pointless. Beyond that, when you stand out like a sore thumb, you sort of forget that the little people milling around you have a lot of differences. You sort of notice what they have in common instead.”

Eilan looked back out at the water just below the cliff they’d made camp on. He watched the rolling, choppy waves again. There were so many of them. “I guess you do. Um. And you know I was Tranquil, right?”

“Now that is strange. I mean, don’t get me wrong. You recovering from that is probably the best thing to happen for a lot of people and… Congratulations, obviously. But that whole Tranquil thing…” Bull paused, exhaling sharply. “Nevermind. I don’t know shit about mages. I don’t want to say the wrong thing or piss you off.”

“Because I’d beat the shit out of you?”

The Iron Bull laughed. “Hey now. I wouldn’t rule out the possibility.”

Eilan shrugged. “I doubt you would piss me off. So. What would you say if you weren’t worried about me?”

“I would say that there’s a respect owed to mages. There is a constant struggle that goes on inside all of us and it is a fight most of it will never win. A mage understands that more than most. My people would say that this is the highest virtue. You okay? You seem… wobbly.”

“I don’t know.”

“Staring at the water like that won’t help. Here.”

Eilan blinked when the Iron Bull tilted his chin up. The Qunari's hand was large but his touch was surprisingly gentle. The contact was short and fleeting. He wondered if it always would be that way. People touching him lightly and then darting away before he could react. 

“You see the waves but you want the sea or sky. Trust me. It gets calmer further out. Plus the sun’s about to rise and it’s kinda pretty.”

Eilan nodded, looking past the waves to the blue horizon. To the hint of sun peeking out over it. He felt a little better.

“We all have to deal with what we are. The good parts and the bad. All the time if it’s obvious. Plenty of people are going to give you shit for being a mage. Or having been Tranquil. I don’t plan on giving you shit. It’s like anything else. You want shit, you got to earn it.”

Eilan managed a small, shaky smile. “Is that what you tell your Chargers?”

“Sometimes.”

*


	3. Chapter 3

*

As much as he could tell that they were destined to disagree about virtually everything, Eilan was especially glad to have found Vivienne. She seemed frigid at times and often vaguely cruel, but she was an excellent teacher if an exceptionally harsh mistress.

He’d never worked up a sweat practicing magic before, but she’d all but browbeat him into submission as they reviewed his strengths and weaknesses.

Practicing at the camp had been mostly a comical series of misadventures. Vivienne herself had set fire to the Iron Bull’s ridiculous pants when he’d pointed out just how sexy a teacher he thought she was. And Eilan had gotten a black-eye from Blackwall. In fairness, the mage had miscalculated how long it would take him to throw up a Barrier. But the Grey Warden was still apologizing for it. Possibly because of the lectures he’d received from not just one but all of the leaders of the Inquisition.

Sera had just laughed at all of this and drawn pictures of it. Varric had kindly and loudly declared he would be leaving this out of the books he planned on writing. Cassandra and Solas simply left camp whenever they’d started training. In opposite directions, of course.

“Fire and ice, my dear,” Vivienne said at the end of their first session at Haven. Her smile seemed sincere but Eilan wasn’t about to tell her so. He liked having hair on his head. “You excel at them and therefore you should rely on them. We’ll be alike in that respect at least.” Her lips curved up into a smirk. “And that elf apostate is fortunate you began with ice and snow.”

“Thank you for today.”

“I should thank you. It has been ages since I had anyone to train. Let alone such an apt pupil. And you will let other people know I was the one to assist you, I’m certain. Now off with you.”

Eilan was a bit surprised to find Cullen waiting outside of the small house he’d been given. “Can we talk?”

“Certainly.”

“We can walk if you like. Or...”

“I wouldn’t mind walking.”

Initially they didn’t say much, but Eilan sort of enjoyed the quiet. That they could spend time together without saying anything and it wasn’t all that awkward.

Eventually Cullen asked, “How’s the training coming along?”

“Well enough. I’m getting much better at Winter and Inferno spells. My Barrier is...coming along. Ish. Thank you for giving us time to use the field.”

Cullen snorted.

"What?"

“You needn’t thank me for that.”

“Hm. What’s on your mind?”

“You.”

“...me?”

Cullen colored slightly. “Yes. That is, the injury you sustained.”

“It wasn’t much of one. Not to mention the fact that it was my own fault, really.”

“That I will not accept. I am, however, willing to view it as an accident. I understand that Blackwall,” and Cullen all but spat out the name with a sort of unbridled hostility that ought not to have been as attractive as it was, “ has apologized.”

“Profusely. He’s forbidden to apologize again.”

Cullen scowled. “I suppose that is your prerogative.”

Eilan couldn’t it, he laughed. “Well, thank you very much for that.”

“And I doubt it would happen again,” Cullen mused, still blushing faintly but determined to ignore it. Even if he had smiled as Eilan laughed at him.

“I’m sure it won’t. But Cullen, a black eye is the least of what I’m likely to get working for--”

“I know that. Just as I know you can look after yourself. You don’t need anyone fretting over you. It’s… It’s been a long time since…” Cullen sighed. “Maker help me, but I’ve never been good at this sort of thing. Suffice it to say, it’s difficult for me. And there is, of course, the fact that none of this will work without you.”

Eilan smiled gently. “I appreciate that. I do, and I understand. It really is just a black eye though.”

“All right." After a pause, Cullen added: "Accidents aside, I think you’ve managed to collect a good group of people for us.”

“I do too.”

And should you need to face off against someone in order to practice your skills... I’d be willing.”

Eilan blinked, uncertain what to make of the offer. “Would you be comfortable doing that? After…” 

They had talked, of course, about templars and even Kirkwall, but Eilan had never asked too much. He’d been afraid. Not of Cullen, but potentially painful truths. Templars and mages did not typically spend time together out of their own free will. He liked to think that he was becoming friends with Cullen, but all of that could go away. The mage couldn’t help but think what they had would unravel right before his eyes if he asked too much. And finding out that a friendship wasn’t possible, wasn’t real…

Cullen stopped walking. “It’s all right, Eilan.”

“Is it? I don’t want to be a reminder of… But I suppose I must be. At times.”

“A reminder of?”

“It’s just…” Eilan hesitated then asked, “Cullen, how do you feel about mages? How do you feel about me?

Cullen was silent, but only for a moment. “There was a time when all of you seemed the same to me. Every one of you more dangerous than the last and always a weak moment, a knife’s wound away from summoning a demon. I let myself change. Out of distrust, I let things happen… Things that never should have happen. To anyone. I behaved in a manner unworthy of anyone. And it becomes clearer to me all the time that the source of all my problems was a lot closer than I cared to think.”

“That’s often the case, you know.”

Cullen offered up a wan smile. “I remain concerned about magic. At the heart of this whole mess is magic. And as long as the breach remains, the threat of possession and worse is very real. I still believe safeguards are necessary. But I do not think that those safeguards are only for those who aren’t mages. Is that… acceptable?”

“I think it’s a fair assessment. For the most part.”

“How do you feel about templars?” 

"Ex-templars or templars?"

Cullen coughed. "Um. Either or, I suppose?"

"I never thought poorly of templars. Before the Rite, I didn’t notice them much. After, there were some that I knew to avoid." The ones who used up their lyrium supply in a day or who smiled oddly whenever Eilan spoke to them. "They would ask for things. Offer things. They always seemed so confused when I said no. I think they didn’t understand that I still could make obvious or thoughtful decisions.”

“But they left it at that, right?”

“There was an incident.”

“What sort of incident?”

“A small sort.”

“What sort of incident?” Cullen repeated, and there was no arguing with the tone of his voice.

“Just… He wouldn’t let go of me and he... Anyway, Knight-Commander let me work for her, and then I didn’t have to see that templar again.”

“I see,” Cullen said, his voice a bit brittle.

“I don’t remember the Conclave, but I remember before. There was a vote. All of the Tranquil from my Circle wanted to stay but the other mages did not. So we left but it wasn’t the same. The templars were more considerate. More mindful. So many of the Tranquil went missing and no one even cared. The templars would have.”

“So you went to the Conclave.”

“I thought someone there would listen.”

“If things hadn’t gone to pieces, someone would have. I'm sure of it.”

Eilan closed his eyes, wanting to believe that was true but far from certain that it was. “I think sometimes that I’m grateful for what happened. Then I think of how many people died. Then I think of how wonderful it feels to feel so much even if it’s painful. Then I have to stop because it’s too much and then my hands go numb. And it’s suddenly very cold.”

“It’s all right.” Cullen took Eilan’s hands in his. His expression was dark and somewhat grim. “I think that’s allowed.”

They stayed that way for a long time. When Cullen moved away, his expression was softer but difficult to interpret. “When you feel overwhelmed, you can come find me.”

“It would be quite often. But I’m trying not to--”

“You don’t have to try. In fact, I would prefer that you didn't try. You can come find me whenever you’d like. For whatever reason.”

Eilan had nodded before taking his leave. He imagined it was high time he tried seeking Blackwall out.

The Grey Warden was carving a small hare out of an oak branch. He was leaning on the stone wall surrounding the blacksmith’s home.

“No harm done,” Blackwall said when Eilan mentioned his run-in with the Commander. “Nothing I couldn’t handle. Your man though. Cullen? I thought he was going to demand satisfaction.”

“…pardon?”

“Defend your honor, I should say.”

“No. Really?”

Blackwall chuckled. “Quite amusing, really. Touching. Anyway, I thought you should know in case the knowing helps you avoid unnecessary injuries. For the sake of those who travel with you.”

Eilan blushed. “Well, I… Oh honestly, Blackwall. I’m not made of glass.”

“Of course not. Doubt he thinks you are. And I don’t hold it against him. The world gives us very few good things and even less good people. If you find one worth protecting, worth caring about… Well, it’s not surprising if he’s a bit overzealous. I would be too.”

It was only after Blackwall walked away that Eilan realized what the Grey Warden thought. 

If only he was right.

*

The shelves were full of the skulls, the ocularum, eye sockets shining like mirrors in the low light. The only innocuous thing in the room was the small note on the table. Its contents were anything but.

“No,” Eilan said in a broken, quiet voice.

Cassandra peered over his shoulder. She said nothing as she pried it gently from his hands and passed it to Varric.

Eilan crumbled, letting her support him before he shrugged her off and ran outside. He didn't pay much attention to where he was going. 

“Whoa, hey, what did you see in there?” Eilan bit back a sob as the Iron Bull hauled him away from the edge of the pier. “Shit. What happened?”

“The Tranquil. I can’t... I can't breathe.”

The Iron Bull pulled him closer, away from the dock and the water. “Sure, you can. Slowly. It’s okay, I got you.”

Eilan shook his head, fighting off tears as they arrived on more solid ground.

“Hey. I got you,” Iron Bull said, touching his shoulders and shaking him a little. Gently but jarring. “Understand? So you do what you need to do. Now.”

He couldn’t help but trust in that, to lean into the Qunari and try to breathe. He wouldn’t cry. He wanted to but he couldn’t here. Could he? He couldn’t prevent himself from feeling the way he did. For their sakes' if not his own. For his inability to save them, and because he knew the Tranquil would have trusted in the aid they'd have been offered. 

They would have gone willing, thinking they were moving to a new safe place where they could study or research or count supplies or whatever menial task they enjoyed doing. They wouldn’t have known, couldn’t have known until it was too late. And all because some fucker from Tevinter wanted shards. Because Tranquil weren’t people, not anymore, so why not slaughter them like squealing defenseless nugs? Only they wouldn’t squeal. They wouldn’t make a sound as they died.

"Stupid, stubborn…” The Qunari stopped. “Fine. Here." Eilan let himself be tugged further from the hut, down towards the quiet corner where they'd met Connor Eamon. “Now listen to me. Stop thinking so much. Feel what you need to feel. You deserve that. You’re going to feel it anyway. Might as well commit to it.”

Eilan ducked his head, letting himself give in and cry, letting the Qunari run large fingers through his hair.

"What happened?" Iron Bull asked, but he was clearly speaking to the others. “What was in there?”

“The ocularum,” Cassandra said quietly.

“I’ve seen some fucked-up shit but…” Varric trailed off. “Seeker, we can’t just leave them like that.”

“We can’t.”

“Still confused,” the Iron Bull said impatiently. “Come on. Spill. The only reason I didn’t go into that shitty shack is you said I’d knock it down. But I will if I have to.”

"Here. Read," Cassandra suggested wearily.

One of the Qunari’s hands moved away, the other absently stroked Eilan’s cheek. “…fuck.”

Cassandra said something under her breath in what sounded like Nevarran. “I never thought to look. We’re heard such vague reports and there was so much chaos after the Conclave. The mages only turned to us for aid recently. None of them mentioned this. I don’t believe any of us thought such a thing could happen. Trevelyan--”

“Needs a moment,” Iron Bull said. “I suggest we limit the blame to the Vint whose name we have and whoever the Venatori are. Would have done, should have done... Doesn’t help us. This did happen. Has happened. What matters is what we do now.”

It took time. No one spoke. No one did anything as far as Eilan was aware. When he finally glanced at his companions, he didn’t see disgust or pity. The Iron Bull was impossible to read, but his arms were warm and they hadn’t left him. Varric was watching them and looking somber. Cassandra wasn’t looking at anything in particular, but her watchful countenance was stern and foreboding. The few villagers considering heading in their direction took one look at her and abruptly changed direction.

“Thank you,” Eilan managed, pulling away from the Qunari. “How many… How many are in there?”

“A few shelves’ worth,” Varric speculated. “Let’s stay out here for now.”

“We bury them," the Iron Bull said. "Not anywhere near here but we bury them.”

“It is the very least we can do,” Cassandra agreed. “And we will have to see what we can do to locate other Tranquil and prevent this from happening again. Is that… Would that be right, Trevelyan? Eilan?”

Her expression was earnest, and she’d meant everything she’d said. There was a lot about the Seeker that was prickly and at first she’d seemed like a tyrannical and dangerous zealot. As if she would haul him to the nearest Circle once one was established if he did not act as a proper Herald should. But she was trying to help. He knew that, had seen plenty of proof of it, and at that moment she wanted to do the right thing. So much so that she was asking him, relying on him to tell her what that was.

“It's something. I can’t leave them where they are. They were people. Before the Rite and after the Rite, they were people.”

She nodded grimly.

“What about the, uh, the skulls?” Varric asked. “The ones already out there.”

“I hate to say this and I know how it will sound so hear me out,” the Iron Bull said. “We ought to find the shards. Because you gotta know these assholes will do it if we don’t.”

Eilan sighed shakily. “You’re right. It shouldn’t be this way, but it is this way. So it should be us.”

“We can make what happened to them matter. It will serve the Inquisition and the mages that yet live," Cassandra offered. "Once we’re done, we will bury the others as well.”

Eilan nodded. “I’m helping the mages here. I’ve no doubt the templars need our help but I can’t let this happen to anyone else.” He wasn't sure he wanted an argument, but he looked around for one. 

The Iron Bull shrugged. “Sure. It’s your call, boss.”

As they headed for the Gull & Lantern, Eilan slowed and walked next to the Qunari. “What happened back there… I know it shouldn’t have happened.”

“Then you don’t know much, boss.”

“How’s that?”

“What happened back there? That should happen whenever it needs to. And that’s all there is to say about it.”

Eilan hesitated.

"What?"

“I’d like to say some more things about it.”

“Of course you would,” Bull said but his grumbling seemed good-natured. “ Go on. Talk at me.”

“It’s just… I want to thank you. You were… That is...”

“I was super nice for a super secret Qunari spy?” The Iron Bull asked, voice pitched low and colored with amusement.

Eilan laughed. “You are the absolute worst at keeping that a secret.”

The Iron Bull chuckled. “Yeah. I am.”

“And you weren’t just nice. You were very kind. We don’t know each very well and still you didn’t mind… You comforted me.”

The Iron Bull grunted, seeming vaguely embarrassed. “Uh. Well. I'd like to think that it was a pretty normal reaction to emotional distress.”

“Is it? I haven’t had a lot of emotional anything until lately. Let alone a reaction like yours.”

The Iron Bull sighed heavily. “I know. I’ve got no clue what it’s like to lose as much as you did. I don’t know what it’s like to come back from that, but I’ve… There’s been times where I lost it. Myself. Perspective. Things along those lines. I needed other people to help me through it.”

“I really appreciate your help. And you.”

“Well, look... It’s one service I’ll give you free of charge. Anytime.”

Eilan smiled faintly. “I appreciate that too.”

“Yeah, uh, don’t mention it. To anyone else. I have a certain reputation as a ruthless, expensive, massacring beast. No one needs to know I give out free hugs to cute mages.”

“So this won’t go in your report?” Eilan asked, making sure his tone was teasing. It was foolish, perhaps. Everyone had told him so, but he trusted Bull. Why not when he was trusting everyone else in the Inquisition? Besides, he couldn’t help feeling fond of someone who ought to be have been utterly foreign, unlikeable and inapproachable and who, in truth, was basically anything but.

“Sadly the people I report back to wouldn’t care about what sort of person you are. Not yet.” The Iron Bull shrugged his massive shoulders. “Their loss. I like that I get to see of it though.”

“And free of charge.”

The Qunari laughed again. “And that's for the best. I doubt I could afford you anyway.”

*


	4. Chapter 4

*

Grand Enchanter Fiona was, in a word, stupid. There was a longer, more involved phrase or choice of word he might have used, but stupid was the kindest he could think of. And it was difficult to devote too much time to figuring out what she was while he was speaking to Alexius. Underneath the table, his hands were clenched into fists. 

The Magister spoke calmly, cheerfully, and it was hard to meet his gaze. Not without wondering if Alexius was silently considering potential rituals that might require a formerly Tranquil’s skull.

At one point, the magister tried to touch Eilan’s forehead, to look for the lyrium mark. Or, at least, where the mark had been. 

Eilan flinched minutely. He managed a small frown, privately a little terrified. He wasn't sure how to react. As a representative of the Inquisition and the Herald of Andraste, he couldn't afford to let this bother him. And yet he couldn't... How was he supposed to just sit there and let him?

“Fucking don’t,” Iron Bull growled out. “This is your one and only warning, Vint.”

Alexius raised an eyebrow and scoffed. “And you would be?”

“His bodyguard and lethal enforcer. Strong arm of the Inquisition. So put your pasty-ass hands on the table where I can see them. Leave ‘em there if you want to keep ‘em.”

To the surprise of no one at all, Alexius listened.

So Eilan just continued to sit there, directly across from the Magister, as Alexius explained the situation. Eilan, for his part, asked questions and otherwise spoke very little.

When the man left to tend to his sick son, Eilan got to his feet. Alexius was going to die. That much he knew and the thought of it was good. It made him feel less helpless and more angry. He hesitated, staring down at the note he’d been given and wondering if he ought to bother. He read it anyway.

“Found someone you ought to meet,” Varric said.

It had been awhile since he’d seen that sunburst. Not so long that he flinched at the mere sight of it, but as far as Eilan was concerned, he had all the time in the world to speak to a Tranquil. Particularly one who, quite frankly, needed to get out of Redcliffe as soon as was humanly possible.

“You are the Inquisition.” The man’s voice was quiet and calm. Placid and neutral. 

“A part of it, yes. I’m Eilan Trevelyan.”

“You are the Herald. I am Clemence.”

“It’s nice to meet you. What can I do for you?”

“I came here from Kinloch Circle with the others. Many have already left to escape the Magister’s ire.”

Eilan didn’t have it in him to correct his assumption. In fact, he preferred to think that many had escaped the Magister’s clutches. Still. It was important to learn all he could about Alexius. “His ire?”

“He doesn’t like to be reminded of what mages can become.”

And reminded of his victims, most likely.

“He says all Tranquil must leave Redcliffe. Those without magic are sent away and no longer allowed in the Castle. Even the Arl was forcibly removed. I would like to leave, but I do not know where to go.”

Eilan couldn’t help smiling. “I do. Consider yourself hired by the Inquisition. In fact, I was going to insist upon it. We’ll be delighted to have you.”

Clemence raised an eyebrow. Not exactly surprised, but probably uncertain of what to make of the offer. He probably hadn’t expected to be given so much so easily. “Thank you. While one lives, it is good to believe there is a use for one’s talents. However..."

“Yes?”

“I must admit I wasn’t anticipating your eagerness. I thought there would be a negotiations of sorts albeit a brief one. And that I would need to explain my qualifications.”

Eilan smiled. “I’m sorry. It’s been… You’re basically the highlight of my day. So if you want to go over your qualifications, I’d be glad to listen.”

The Tranquil needed no more prompting than that. “Had you been reticent, I would have told you I am an alchemist. I would have suggested that the Inquisition would be in need of potions. That if the Magister will not have me here, perhaps you would appreciate my services.”

“You would have been right, and I’d have welcomed you aboard. Redcliffe isn’t safe for any mage.”

Clemence nodded. “Thank you again.”

“You’re very welcome. If it’s alright with you, some of the scouts can escort you to camp. It’s just outside of the village. I have one more errand to run. Then we’ll see about setting you up as an agent.”

As Clemence left with a fairly decent retinue of soldiers, Eilan sighed in relief. He slumped over at a nearby table, letting his forehead rest against the wooden surface. It hardly made up for what had happened to the others, but it was good to be able to help someone. Anyone.

Varric joined him at the table, setting down two drinks, one for each of them. “I don’t enjoy saying this, and I don’t want you to tell her I said it either. Got that?” 

Eilan glanced up. “I’ve got it, Varric.”

Varric grimaced briefly. “Cassandra noticed him first. She couldn’t bring herself to talk to him. Too busy beating herself up. It’s the Chantry in her. But. Just thought you should know that we’re all on the same page here. If you can believe it.”

“Thank you, Varric.” Eilan eyed the mug in front of him. "Should I also thank you for this?”

“Huh. Shit. Do you even know what ‘this’ is?”

“I suppose… Alcohol?”

Varric tugged the mug away. “You know, I don’t know if letting you drink with me is a good idea.”

“I doubt a bit of ale would harm me.”

“Uh huh. Well, I’d prefer to have more adult supervision so let’s hold off on that. Better yet, let’s wait for a happier occasion, okay?”

“Okay.”

*

Dorian Pavus, unwittingly or not, had attempted to lighten the mood. He’d even given Eilan a rift to seal and that had been a nice if brief diversion. But the whiplash from private and shared emotions had left Eilan with very little left to give. He’d manage a laugh when Dorian asked where the applause had gone, but he’d barely been listening when the mage suggested sending Alexius a fruit basket.

Dorian crossed his arms. "I can’t imagine I’m boring you so… Is something the matter?”

“Something is.” Eilan handed the Tevinter mage the note he had collected on the oculara. He heard a vague sort of grumbling from his three companions who did not seem to find Dorian nearly as interesting. 

“You’re showing me this already?” Dorian questioned before examining the note’s contents. “Is that wise, Herald?”

“If we’re going to work together, I want to be honest. I want you know that I will kill Alexius. That whether it only takes a moment or takes a great deal of time, he will eventually die and it will be a direct result of my efforts. And I want you to know why.”

The Tevinter mage read the note at least three times. He looked up, brow creasing as he smoothed over the paper. He gently handed the note back. “I hadn’t realized... In point of fact, I had hoped for evidence to the contrary.” He sighed, voice heavy with regret. “Alexius is... He was a good man once. But I understand. I really do.”

“There is no choice. Not that I see.”

Dorian nodded absently, moving away. “There are always consequences to one’s actions. I won’t make an effort to stop you. Even were the cause a touch less personal, I cannot argue with your reasoning or your decision. And yet... When the time comes to deal with Alexius, I still want to be there. I’ll be in touch. Oh and Felix. Try not to get yourself killed.”

“There are worse things than dying, Dorian.”

“I… I am sorry,” Eilan managed, looking over to the other mage from Tevinter. Announcing that you were going to kill someone’s father was difficult, even more so when it seemed obvious that said someone wasn’t going to disagree.

“I am too,” Felix agreed, and then he left as well.

There was no way to proceed without consulting the other members of the Inquisition, particularly its current leaders. For the time being, Eilan made camp near the farm where Sera, Blackwall, Solas and Vivienne had spent the day running what sounded like the world’s most ridiculous errands. One of which had involved herding a druffalo and apparently had nothing to actually do with gaining aid from the Horse Master. A Horse Master who hardly seemed worth so much effort, but Eilan hadn’t been riding since he was a child. And he rather liked the idea of acquiring better horses and other mounts.

At any rate, each of them read the note in turn. Eilan left before he could see their reactions. He washed up in a nearby creek, and then leaned against a log near the fire, writing letters. 

The first he composed was a short note to Josephine, Leliana, and Cullen. 

The second letter that he worked on was just to Cullen. It wasn’t very long either but it explained a bit more about the oculara. About how he’d felt. About what he wanted to do. About how much he was looking forward to sparring with him someday. And that maybe Cullen and the Iron Bull ought to give it a try as well. 

He stared down at it, wincing. This wasn’t the sort of letter he could send. Not to Cullen. Not as things were now. Not without knowing for certain that they were friends. Not without the way he felt making things obvious and awkward. In short, not without making a fool of himself. He closed his eyes briefly, crumpling up the parchment and tossing it into the fire. 

A pebble hit his boot.

Eilan glanced up at Sera. She was sitting across from him and eyeing him strangely. Not unkindly. Not exactly. Just strangely. Her hands were behind her back and she was watching him closely.

“I heard about what happened. To your people. Or are they your people? How does that work?”

What worked was you got a brand of lyrium in the shape of a sun stamped into your forehead, but he knew what wasn’t what she was asking. “They are my people," he said quietly. "It's not just that though. Someone has to make sure this never happens again."

“And that’s us, right? On the side of justice and all?”

“That’s us. And someone has to answer for what was done to them. That's Alexius."

“Right. Good. I like sticking arrows in bad people.”

Vivenne yawned, joining them. “My dear, please tell me we’re to have a day off at some point.”

“Tomorrow will be mainly traveling,” Eilan assured her. “We’re going back to Haven.”

“Should I run along so the important people can talk?” Sera asked with a sneer.

The First Enchanter inspected her flawless nails. “It’s all the same to me. I’d hardly tell you what to do.”

Sera considered this then stuck out her tongue and bolted off towards the trees. Or maybe her tent. It was hard to tell.

Vivenne sat down near Eilan, leaning over and smoothing down a lock of his hair. “This is getting rather long.”

“I suppose it is.”

“What are you wearing? Darling, you cannot wear these.”

Eilan glanced down at his beige under-armor. It seemed suitable enough. “Not even to bed?”

“Not even, my dear. Especially not if you’re trying to attract anyone to it. We must leave the beggar look to Solas. At least it suits him.”

Eilan tried not to laugh but he couldn’t help himself. Perhaps because he knew Solas would not care what the Orlesian mage thought of him. “Vivienne, I don’t think agents of the Inquisition need to dress up for each and every occasion.”

“Agents, no. But you are not merely an agent. For the evening, I’ll do what I can with your hair. Was it always this white?”

“Yes. Although I suppose in the legends it will be a result of leaving the Fade and being freed of my Tranquility.”

“More than likely, but the truth is never all that interesting.” She’d pull a brush out of thin air, as far as Eilan could tell. She pulled his hair out of its makeshift ponytail, lightly brushing through slightly tangled locks. "Is that all right?”

“Sure." He didn't mind the contact. He'd had other mages do this for him before. At the Circle. They'd liked that his hair was so long and so white. And as long as he didn't say anything too off-putting, the encounters were generally positive. "Did Clemence settle in then?”

“Yes. He spoke with Solas and he excused himself for the evening. Most of the others are in bedrolls or considering them. That Qunari of yours is... somewhere. For such a loud and bulky fellow, he is quite easy to lose track of.”

Eilan winced as she pulled his hair back, working it into separate strands so she could braid it. “He’s not my Qunari.”

“Hm. Tell me. Why were you at the Conclave?”

“I thought… Well, I wanted the war to stop but primarily I wanted to… It was mainly that I wanted my Circle back.”

“ _Your_ Circle? Not all Circles?”

Eilan hoped she didn’t expect much of a debate. In an effort to ensure it, he strove to be honest. “I support protection for mages… But I’m not sure any one group knows what that is. At the time of the Conclave, however, my needs were more immediate. What I wanted then was order and a measure of security against the chaos. There is nothing outside of the Circle for a Tranquil. Templars could be cruel, but at least they were vigilant.”

“And now?”

“Now I don’t know that a person should want security at the expense of their freedom or sense of self. Nothing seems as simple or straight forward as before.”

“Nothing ever is.”

“Sounds about right.”

She finished the braid and slowly rose to her feet, looking down at him. “We’ll have to find a proper tailor for you when time permits. Countless innocent lives rely on the Inquisition to decide their fate. You ought to present the proper image.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And In Hushed Whispers (sort of) begins. 
> 
> You can anticipate some actual if slightly altered game dialogue in subsequent chapters, particularly in regards to major plots. I plan on covering most if not all of the game.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I like [this picture](http://bansheesbones.tumblr.com/post/73938261867/my-version-of-genderbent-elsa-from-frozen-hope) a bit better in terms of how Eilan looks.

*

They returned to Haven days later. Eilan headed to his bed, curling up on it and allowing himself an hour of nothing. Only the nothing brought quiet and discomfort. He felt uneasy so he left his little house and walked around Haven until exhaustion sent him back to bed. At some point, the nothing left him alone. He dreamt of benevolent spirits in castle ruins before joining the War Council to inform them of his decision to help the mages.

“How are we to get into the castle?” Cullen had asked. “”If we can answer that question in a satisfactory way, then by all means let us aid the mages. But I, for one, believe that we would be far better off locating the templars.”

“There is a Tevinter Magister in control of the village with countless mages indentured to him,” Cassandra put in. “That cannot be allowed to stand.”

Josephine sighed. “We cannot forget that he has asked for the Herald of Andraste by name. It is an obvious trap.”

Leliana offered up a dark smirk. “He was so eager and so complimentary, that we are certain he wants to kill you.”

Eilan had to look away from them. He needed to be angry and determined. The Herald everyone kept demanding that he be, but all he could think about were those skulls.

“Redcliffe Castle is a fortress,” Cullen reminded them all before focusing on Eilan. “It has repelled forces far larger than what we’ve managed to assemble. It is impenetrable. If you go in there, you will die. And need I remind you that if you die so will our only means of closing these rifts? I won’t allow it.”

“If he does not go and speak to Alexius,” Leliana said, “there will be no way to reach the mages. And a foreign power that provides a significant threat the Inquisition will linger all but on our doorstep.”

“Our Orlesian forces in Ferelden jeopardize our cause and could alienate potential allies. Our hands are tied,” Josephine insisted.

Eilan shook his head. “You cannot ask us to ignore this Magister. He has killed… There is no telling what else he has done or might still do.”

“I understand,” Cullen said in a kinder tone. “I do. But, Trevelyan, Alexius has outplayed us.”

“That can’t be the end of it. I won’t accept that.”

“You cannot ask the Herald to simply give up,” Cassandra agreed. “Not after what we saw in Redcliffe.”

Eilan couldn’t decide how he felt about how people’s opinions shifted and changed and evolved. The Seeker had seemed unlikely to ever see him as more than a problem, but here she was championing his cause. He offered up a small smile. She blinked but, oddly enough, she returned it.

“By the same token,” Cullen said, still scowling, “you cannot ask us to send the Herald straight into what I can only assume are the arms of a psychotic mad man. Not when we’re dealing with a Tevinter magister and some strange sort of group whose actual goal is unclear.”

“I’m not asking for that,” Eilan said, more than a little confused by how opposed Cullen was to the idea. Or rather not confused by his opposition so much as that the man didn’t seem to be willing to flat-out say there was no way the mission could proceed. It seemed like Cullen ought to just tell them simply end negotiations and dictate what to do next. But either he wouldn't or he couldn't. He didn’t want to allow Eilan to die at least. That was sweet if entirely unhelpful. “There has to be a way inside."

“There is a secret passageway used by the royal family.”

The sound Cullen made could only be described as a snarl. “Leliana.”

“Hush, Cullen. There is. It is too narrow to use for a full-scale invasion but surely some agents could make use of it.”

“Only to be discovered and disposed of.”

“Not if there’s a distraction. Perhaps the envoy Alexius is so eager to negotiate with.”

“That would certainly keep the Tevinter mages busy,” Josephine mused, keeping her voice light as everyone else remained fairly tense. “I know I find it hard to focus on anything else when Trevelyan is here.”

Leliana laughed.

“It’s risky but it could work,” Cullen said stiffly.

That was when the door slammed opened and Dorian stepped in. And he was… well, maybe he could pull focus if Eilan couldn’t.

“Did you miss me?” Dorian asked, leaning on Eilan when he was done explaining how invaluable he was. “I thought I’d follow you here and see if you could be cheered up.”

Eilan huffed out a sigh. “Yes, I missed you terribly.”

“Ah, some good news at last.”

“Is this what you want do then?” Cullen asked, staring down at the war table. Eilan winced when he noticed the Commander was focused on Therinfal Redoubt. “We can’t demand that you to do this. Not in good conscience. The templars are an option but if you’re determined to act as bait, well... It’s up to you.”

“I can’t leave them there. If it’s up to me, I will save Redcliffe. And the mages.”

*

Eilan had been hoping to talk to Cullen afterwards, but the Commander left quickly and Dorian was already there and everyone was so eager to move forward that he let the opportunity slip by.

In a future full of red lyrium and tortured companions, he found that to be chief amongst his regrets. Second only to wishing he’d just had it out with Alexius back at the Gull & Lantern.

Dorian explained the situation or, at least, the parts of it that he understood. “The rest will be come clear in time. But don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”

“You already did. Back in the hall.”

“Then I shall continue to do so.”

Dorian continued talking and explaining and occasionally allowing his eyes to roam over Trevelyan's form when he thought Eilan wasn’t aware of him. As if such a thing were possible. The man was impossibly distracting and easily the most attractive mage Eilan had seen in recent years. It also didn't help that Dorian's intense eyes were stunning and he had the most charming voice. And Dorian clearly understood the effect it had because he didn’t bother to stop talking until they arrived at the cells.

The first person they met was chanting in a broken, sad tone. And then there was Fiona, all but encased in red lyrium. Dorian steered Eilan away from the bars after both conversations.

They found the others slowly. They were somewhat whole but tainted by red lyrium with voices that echoed oddly in the stone rooms. Cassandra was first. 

“You’ve returned to us,” Cassandra called out in a voice tinged with disbelief. “Can it be? Maker forgive me. I failed you. I failed everyone but I failed you most of all.”

“You didn’t. You never failed me.”

“You died. The Magister obliterated you with a gesture.”

“Alexius sent us forward in time. If we can return to the present.”

“Then you can make it so this never took place. Sweet Andraste, can it be so?” She rose quickly to her feet, explaining the murderer of Empress Celine and the rise of the Elder One. Cassandra hesitated once she was released from the cell. She stood in front of Eilan. She reached briefly for his hand but stopped herself and moved out into the hall.

Sera was next. She stood in front of him, subdued and weary, but still with plenty of fight left in her. “The day you died, I ran out of arrows making them pay,” she said, her tone almost hushed as she spoke of the demons. “Then it didn’t matter anymore. There were demons and just me and a bow. But you’re here. I’ll frigging die to spit in their faces.”

The Iron Bull had been less eager and much less understanding. “You were dead. Both of you. Burn marks on the carpet before all of this shit started.”

“We’re as alive as you are, Bull.”

“So dead and not dead are up for debate now. Wonderful.”

“This conversation has taken a turn for the moronic. Just come with us. We’re going to fight Alexius,” Dorian impatiently insisted.

“As if it’ll do any good. He’s not the threat. It’s this Elder One.” The Iron Bull left his cell and stopped in front of Eilan. “He killed the Empress and launched an invasion on the south with legions of demons. If you haven’t fought a demon army before… I don’t recommend it."

Eilan nodded. "Understood."

"I want to be glad to see you, but it is impossible. Dead or not, you shouldn’t be here.”

Eilan couldn’t help it, he wanted so badly to pat the Qunari’s hand or touch his shoulder or hug him. Any sort of contact would do. After being considered dead for a year, surely no one could fault him. “I know. And I--"

“Don’t. Boss.” There was something like regret in the Iron Bull’s voice. “You shouldn’t touch me. Not sure I could stand for you to touch me the way I am now. Anyway, let’s go. There’s no time like the present.”

Then there was Leliana. And Josephine. And Cullen.

“Anger is stronger than any pain,” Leliana told him once she’d been unshackled, her face withered and wraith-like. “Do you have weapons?”

Josephine was in the next cell over, looking just as haggard and wrong. “It all unraveled. There was no Inquisition without you and losing you cost us everything we had."

The Commander was a chained, muzzled, and snarling mess covered in cuts and bruises. His eyes were a piercing red eyes and a cluster of red lyrium was sprouting from his right shoulder. But he stilled and quieted when he saw them. 

Eilan wanted nothing more than to go to him, touch him and look after him. He wanted...

”Come away from this,” Dorian suggested. “I know it is painful but this need not happen. It will not happen.”

“But it could,” Eilan managed in a hollow tone. “This could happen to everyone and--”

It won’t. You and I won’t let it.”

“I can’t…” Eilan looked down. “Even if this isn’t how the future will play out, even if we can change everything… I can’t leave him like this.”

He took a step forward, but Dorian hauled him back. “You cannot let emotions get the better of you now. None of this can happen if you return to the present. All hope ends if anything happens to you.”

“Nothing’s gonna happen,” the Iron Bull said firmly. “None of this is gonna happen. So. You want him freed, boss?”

“I do. I… His armor must be here somewhere. I’ll try to find it for him.”

The Qunari sighed, considering the cage and its prisoner. “Might not be a great idea but… shit. It won’t matter anyway, right?”

Eilan slowly rounded up armor and weapons. Dorian followed him, assisting with the demons they encountered. He criticized the decor and tried to do anything to make the other mage feel less fretful. It helped marginally. Both because of Dorian’s way of speaking and because he was making sure an effort. Eilan felt the other mage would be easier to like, just as he was proving to be quite easy to work with. He hoped he’d consider joining the Inquisition. 

When they returned, Cullen was out of the cage in a corner of the stone room. He was hunched over and eying the others suspiciously. His red eyes narrowed before blinking as he stared at Eilan.

“He’s managed well despite his infection,” Dorian quietly noted. “He hasn’t been here as long as some of the others.”

Eilan just moved forward until he was closer to the Commander.

“You died,” Cullen said rasped. “And it was just as I said it would be. You listened to me so often before. Why wouldn’t you just listen?”

“I couldn’t. I couldn’t do that, Cullen.”

The violent red glow of his eyes softened. “I know.”

“Did someone--”

“Explain, yes.” Cullen got to his feet, yanking pieces of armor out of Eilan’s hands. Then out of Iron Bull's since there had been far too many for just one person to carry. He put them on one by one, hissing occasionally. There were other clusters of red lyrium along his back that made the task difficult. But he put every single piece of armor on somehow. 

Cullen tucked his helmet under his arm once he was finished. He accepted a sword from Eilan, their hands touching briefly, safely now. It wasn't nearly good enough. And then a shield from the Iron Bull. “We should go.”

They moved swiftly then to their goal and Alexius. There wasn’t much fight left in him and even losing his son didn’t give him the anger he needed to stop Leliana. Let alone the rest of them.

All of that seemed to pass by in a blur. Eilan listened to Dorian’s sorrow and wished he could understand it. He touched the mage’s shoulder instead. Because he could touch Dorian even if he couldn’t really touch anyone else.

“I’ll need an hour to work out the spell,” Dorian added, picking up the amulet. “But I can open the rift he used.”

“An hour? “ Leliana asked, her strange voice quavering slightly. That’s impossible. You must go now.”

The walls began to shake, to crumble down around them. Everyone else save for Eilan and Dorian shared looks before coming to a decision.

“You cannot stay. You cannot have an hour,” Cullen said. “But you can have whatever time we can buy you.”

“No. I cannot let you commit suicide on my behalf.”

“Look at us,” Leliana said. “We’re already dead. The only way we live is if this day never comes.” She stared hard at Dorian. “Cast your spell. You have as much time as I have arrows.”

Eilan considered them all and managed a slight nod. He approached the Iron Bull, wishing he could touch him. For a very short time, they both stared at each other. He imagined how he felt was obvious, but he had no idea what Bull did or didn't want. Eventually the Qunari offered up a grunt, turning away and following the others out the door.

Cullen’s armor-clad hand touched his shoulder. “We never said goodbye, you know.”

Eilan couldn’t stand to look at him. He stared at the ground before forcing his gaze back up, wishing he could do more than send all of them to die. Even if it wouldn’t be real later, it was real now. “I’m sorry, Cullen. I never would have wished for this.”

“What has come to pass is not your doing. Just make sure none of this happens. That what we do here only matters because it saves you.”

“It will save me. And none of this will happen. I promise.”

“Alexius must be dealt with. You must do whatever is necessary to stop him. And when you’re back there… Never mind.” Metal brushed against his cheek. “Go back. Be safe.”

“Wait,” Eilan managed as the Commander headed away from him. “Please.”

Cullen stopped.

Indifferent to whether the others were watching, Eilan moved over to him, taking the helmet from Cullen’s hands. He placed it carefully on the other man’s head. He leaned in, kissing the silver lion’s jaw. He wished he could give Cullen more than a promise he’d never benefit from and a kiss he’d never really have. “Goodbye.”

Cullen offered up a sad, wistful smile. “Goodbye.” And then he was running out the door after the others. And only Dorian and Leliana remained. 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I couldn't resist Red Lyrium Cullen making at least a brief appearance even if I didn't really see the need to go into a very dark place with him. I included game dialogue when appropriate and altered it as I needed to. The next chapter will conclude In Hushed Whispers and move things along towards In Your Heart Shall Burn. 
> 
> \- I don't know that I will continue to post every day, but I would like to get at least 2-3 chapters up a week. Monday, Wednesday, Friday most likely. Maybe weekends. 
> 
> \- I suspect I will need to do a series of shorter fics from the Iron Bull or Cullen's POV. Assuming that would be of interest. And other shorter ideas about different Inquisitors are gnawing at me so there might be other fic for them as well.


	6. Chapter 6

*

Eilan couldn’t stop picturing the bodies of his companions. He kept hearing Leliana’s prayer that she'd offered up even as she fought against the demons pouring into the room. Dorian had forced Eilan not to go to her. Then she’d died in the arms of a creature who was clawing at her neck.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” Dorian said as they returned to the present.

Eilan took one look at Alexius and punched him in the face. 

“I’m not sure that’s what I meant,” Dorian murmured. “Ah well.”

The one hit hadn’t been nearly satisfying enough, but when he attempted to haul the Magister back up for another round, the Iron Bull caught his hand.

“Just one time, boss. You might need to get more out of him.”

“Who cares? One hit is barely a good start,” Sera said gleefully. 

“I’m inclined to agree.” Cassandra said. “Since when does a Qunari have an issue with violence?”

“Since right fucking now, which isn’t the time or the place,” the Iron Bull snapped. “Boss, you’ve got a lot of self-control. So I suggest you use it because we’ve got company on the way.”

“We do?” Eilan asked quietly. 

He closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath. That future would never happen. Whatever became of Alexius, his actions and those of his master could be prevented. But he could not go back far enough in time to save the Tranquil. He could only move forward. What he could do for all of them… What he would do was just as Iron Bull had already suggested. Honor their lives, respect their deaths, and avenge their murders. Or prevent as the case might be.

“We do. You good, boss?”

Eilan nodded.

“Do you actually mean that?”

Eilan nodded again.

“You better mean that otherwise I’ll carry you out of here over my shoulder.”

“I’m as good as I can be. But Alexius has to…" Has to suffer. Has to be dealt with. Should have to understood the consequences of his actions. Both in terms of the son he cared about and to the others he'd only seen as tools. "He can’t…”

“He won’t,” the Iron Bull said. “He won’t. No one is going to have a kind word to say in this prick’s defense.”

“Felix,” Alexius managed in a wheezing tone as his son helped him to his feet. “You’ll die.”

“Everyone dies,” Felix said.

The soldiers escorted the Magister out and the King of Ferelden marched in.

It was a difficult decision but Eilan had insisted the mages join the Inquisition as allies, but the alliance he’d made was based entirely on two things. The sealing of the Breach and whether or not they could prove themselves.

He’d insisted upon individual assessments for each mage, but he needed these mages and they obviously needed him. After all, his biggest concern when it came to the ones at Redcliffe was Fiona and he wanted her nearby. It was far better, he felt to make connections rather than enemies. Particularly when it came to other mages. Particularly as a mage. 

“You don’t use magic first,” the Iron Bull commented when they were finally outside of the castle. “Sometimes. It’s weird.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just that you have a powerful backfist. Wasn’t expecting that. Good though. Can’t just rely on a glowing hand and a magic stick.”

Dorian tutted. “What the Qunari means is that most mages would have gone with a slightly different approach. I would have favored the classic fireball. I wouldn’t have thought to use my fist until sometime after the throne room and the east wing of that castle were ablaze.”

“But you use your fist instead. And sometime later it occurs to you that you could have melted that guy’s face off,” the Iron Bull said with a fond sort of admiration. “Which makes you pretty awesome.”

“Well, no,” Dorian insisted. “That is, there is a great deal that is awesome about Trevelyan but no. No, he probably would not have thought that later on. One doesn’t simply go around thinking about how delightful it would be to get to melt people’s faces off. Mages don’t go around thinking that.”

“But they could. And maybe they should. Pretty sexy move burning off someone’s face. Especially if it’s in the heat of the moment.”

“You are an idiot,” Dorian said with a sigh. “An absolute moron now and in the future.”

“Uh huh. Nice to meet you too, Vint.”

Eilan just laughed.

But it seemed the Iron Bull wasn’t alone in his appreciation of his tactics. Back at Haven, several of the soldiers who had been present had taken a great deal of delight in telling what little of the tale they’d witnessed. He imagined he'd never hear the end of it, but despite the action accomplishing little, he could appreciate their mirth.

*

“I read the report you sent to us, Trevelyan. There is much for us to prevent, and I think we’ll need more details.”

“And you shall have them, Leliana. Josephine.” He took them both in, their whole and hearty appearances. And if they were startled to be given hugs, they were still pleased to receive them. It was a quality he appreciated about both of women. They were hard, stern and formidable when they needed to be, but they were also easy to talk to. And even easier to be around.

"Where’s Cullen?” he asked. He colored slightly. Leliana was giving him a knowing smile. Josephine chuckled quietly. Both of them seeming like very young but very indulgent spinster aunts.

Eventually Josephine looked away and sighed. “He has busied himself with the recruits. I must tell you, Trevelyan... I doubt he'll be as pleased to... That is to say, he’s been in a mood.” 

“Cullen’s moods are far less important that the matter which we ought to be discussing,” Cassandra said, entering the room. “The mages have arrived.”

“How could you give them so much?” Cullen. Joining them at last. “Yes, we needed the mages. Yes, you put some restrictions in place. But, Trevelyan, none of these mages have shown themselves to be in possession of sound judgement. The veil is torn open, the sky still has a gaping hole in it, and the Inquisition cannot be responsible for adding abominations to the mix.”

Eilan had known there was no way for any of the others to remember the future that would never happen. In his head, he had understood that a reunion with any of them wouldn’t be the same if, say, he’d been separated and reunited with Dorian. But his heart didn't seem to understand at all. While Cullen’s tone wasn’t entirely hostile, it was accusatory. Loud. Angry. Sharp. The words cut at him and he flinched. Only slightly. 

“What else could I do?” he asked. His tone was a bit subdued, but also firm. 

His choice had been the right one. Eilan knew that, and because he knew it, he also knew he couldn't afford to recoil as if he'd been slapped. Or to put his hands to his ears, like a small child being told something he was loathe to hear. But for a brief minute, he longed to.

“Not offer them an alliance would have been a good place to start,” Cullen coolly observed.

“I couldn’t leave them and I couldn’t take them prisoner. I’m supposed to be the Herald of Andraste. And I am a mage. It might seem like the right thing to do to a great deal of the people here or in Orlais, but it would have sent the absolutely wrong message to many others.”

“I’m not sure we can afford to give so many mages a second chance.”

Eilan regarded the other man thoughtfully. “You gave me a second chance.”

“We gave you a first chance, not a second one,” Cullen said, his tone becoming slightly less acidic. “That is not the same thing.”

“It is so dissimilar?" Eilan asked, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Am I not a mage?"

"Of course but--"

"You can’t believe that a few mages ruin everything for mages everywhere, and also believe that I am an example of all the good a mage can do.”

“I can believe that the mages from Redcliffe are completely inadequate seeing as they went to a Tevinter Magister for aid. And I can believe that you are a mage who is far better and wiser than they are. You didn’t indenture yourself or blindly agree to follow Alexius come what may just for a port in a storm.”

“And I can close the breach, right?” Eilan asked, fighting to remain calm. “That’s why I’m here.”

“That isn’t--”

“That’s one of the reasons why I’m here then,” Eilan said, correcting himself. “It’s the reason you let me stay. It was a fitting motivation for being kind to me.”

“I will not deny that your ability made giving you a chance considerably easier. But it's not just that. You're... We need you,” Cullen insisted.

“And it was a chance that you took and that you ran with,” Cassandra put in. “No one here can question your commitment. No one is.”

“More to the point, no one here can rescind the offer,” Josephine said. “It would make us seem incompetent at best and tyrannical at worst. A decision, however, had to be made. I do not think any outcome would have been perfect, but there is truth to what Eilan says. A mage taking other mages prisoner might have caused more problems than it would have solved.”

Cullen sighed heavily. “Yes, but you were _there_ , Seeker. Did you attempt to intervene?”

“To be honest, I did not,” Cassandra said. “I support Trevelyan’s decision. I might have chosen otherwise, but the sole purpose of the Herald’s mission was to provide us with mages and he has done so.” 

“Let me see if I can understand this,” Dorian said, stepping in-between Eilan and the others. “No, I don’t think I can. Is this a Southern Chantry tradition? Give a mage impossible choices with life-altering consequences, then tell him he’s made the wrong one and wait to see how long it takes for him to snap? Must be fun. After all, if it goes poorly, hang him from the nearest yardarm. If it goes well, take all the credit for it.”

Cassandra scowled. “No one asked you for your opinion.”

“One so rarely does,” Dorian said a tad wistfully. “That’s why I offer it, dear lady.”

Cullen merely looked from one mage to the other, brow furrowing. 

“Something on your mind, Commander?” Dorian drawled. “Don’t strain yourself. Are you hoping that if you back your pretty pet mage into a corner, he’ll burst into tears or set himself on fire to prove to you how sorry he is? Seems unlikely. After all, he isn't the least bit sorry.”

“I want nothing of the sort,” Cullen growled out through gritted teeth. “Your first accusation had some truth to it but your second one only serves to antagonize me.”

“Good. I live to serve, and if the second accusation stings? It behooves you to consider whether or not there is a glimmer of truth to it as well.”

Cullen glared balefully at the Tevinter mage. He sighed heavily, nodding before focusing on Eilan. “I’m sorry,” he said, all gruffness gone. “Truly. I ought to voice my concerns, but differently, and I will in future. We can’t leave it to you to make decisions only to criticize them afterwards.”

Eilan hesitated, tempted to say it was fine, but it hadn’t been. Not exactly. He was glad for the apology though, and he could tell that Cullen meant it. “Thank you.”

*

The conversation flowed more smoothly after that, the differences of opinion becoming significantly less as Eilan and Dorian spoke of what little they knew of the Elder One and his plans. 

“So,” Dorian began as they headed out of the Chantry. “You and Cullen.”

“Me and Cullen what?” 

“It’s just intriguing. I saw the two of you in that miserable future and it was enough to make me gag. Here it’s quite another sordid tale. He lacks a great deal of tact. I understand he’s Ferelden through and through, but he can’t go around barking at you like that.”

“He doesn’t always bark at me.”

“Yes, well, I’m quite sure barking isn’t all he’d liked to do," Dorian darkly muttered. "Tell me, Trevelyan. Does the Commander even know how much his 'good' opinion matters?”

Eilan blushed. “What’s your point exactly?”

“Oh, I rarely ever have a point,” Dorian said with a smirk that suggested that this was statement was obviously and entirely untrue. “Now, seeing as you were able to hold your own well enough back in the future... I'd say Vivienne has trained you and Solas has given you pointers. And those well-intentioned simpletons back there have been cosseting you up to this point.”

“I… Maybe?”

“Then I’ll have to help train you. And, if possible, keep your associates from mucking things up any further. This means I ought to stay, and that you ought to let me. Do you have any objections?”

“None. I was hoping you would stay, actually. I meant to ask you earlier but there was so much going on.”

“Is that so?”

Eilan smiled gently. “It is. There’s no one else I’d rather be trapped in time with.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting today but I don't think I'll have a chance to tomorrow. Merry (almost) Christmas!


	7. Chapter 7

*

“Where are you headed?” the Iron Bull asked. “I don’t suppose one of those is for me.”

Eilan considered the question, then handed the Qunari his own mug of hot chocolate. “This one is.”

“Not both?”

“I’m taking this one to Cullen.”

“I see.” The Iron Bull gingerly inspected the mug and rolled his eye at the size of it. “Ah, just what I’ve always wanted. A thimble full of hot chocolate.”

“If you don’t want--”

“I want it. Thank you. Just next time maybe you could consider the portion size, huh?” The Qunari drank it all down in one gulp and sighed happily. “Good stuff.” He smiled at Eilan. “It was nice of you to hand this over. I know it was for you.”

“Oh. Um. I don’t mind.”

“Which is why I drank it.” The Iron Bull tossed the mug into the snow and grinned. “That’s the best part about this place. There are so many sweet things.”

There was absolutely no way to even imagine the Qunari was solely referring to hot chocolate. Eilan’s cheeks colored slightly and he glanced out at the recruits. “I… I’m glad you like it here.”

“Hm. Cullen’s certainly put his templar training to good use.”

Eilan blinked up at Bull. “Did Cullen tell you he was a templar?”

“He didn’t need to. Look at the way he holds his shield.”

Eilan’s eyes narrowed as he studied Cullen’s movements. He couldn’t see a real difference between how Cullen held his shield or how Blackwall or Cassandra did.

“He angles it down. It helps direct fire or acid away. So it doesn’t spray right back into your face. Qunari learn the same thing when they train to fight Tevinter mages. Your templar’s doing good work.”

Eilan felt an odd sensation in his chest, like his heart was sinking. “...oh.”

“It’ll work against demons too. Huh. That bothers you.”

“I guess I never… It’s just…” Eilan sighed heavily. 

He doubted Vivienne would, but he supposed Solas or Dorian would teach him how to defend himself against templars. How to find just the right position or casting distance in order to avoid a Smite. But he didn’t want to learn to fight against Cullen. Against any of those he worked with in the Inquisition. 

Logically, he understood that wouldn’t be the point of his learning to defend himself. Just as he understood that what Cullen had learned and was teaching had nothing whatsoever to do with Eilan. But the real reminder of the hard lessons every templar and mage learned about one another made the friendship he wanted -- not to mention the relationship he often craved -- seem impossible. It made him feel foolish and sad and hopeless.

“Stop thinking,” the Qunari demanded. His tone was gentle but firm. 

Eilan looked back up from the snow. Maybe he was wrong. Didn’t he get along really well with the Iron Bull? He never felt as oddly uncomfortable with the Qunari as he felt he should have. Eilan had never felt in danger or threatened even knowing how his people treated their mages. If anything, the larger man provided him with a weird sense of security. What the Iron Bull had learned had been used in Eilan’s own defense. His attacks and formidable presence providing a wall between the mage and oncoming enemies. They’d been able to work well together in combat, hadn’t they?

He blinked as the Iron Bull glared down at him. “Hey. No more thinking. Talk to me.”

“Do you ever wish things were different, Bull?”

The Iron Bull shrugged. “We are what we are, boss. You can’t take it personally. What Cullen’s training them to do is defend themselves and protect the rest of the Inquisition. That includes the mages here.”

“Maybe you could help,” Eilan said. He was trying to do as he’d been instructed and to keep from thinking. “You know, go down there and give them some pointers.”

“Nah. I’m no good unless I know who my men are sleeping with and what they like to drink. The Inquisition’s a very large group. I prefer my Chargers.”

Eilan smiled. “That’s as it should be.”

“Right there? That’s good. You should smile more often,” the Iron Bull said. “Anyway, your biggest problem isn’t Cullen and his training. It’s at the top. Sure, you’re getting things done, but basically you’ve got an Inquisition with no Inquisitor.”

“That’s true.” Eilan wondered who it would be and blinked, realizing that he thought that he himself might be suitable. Could he say as much? He couldn’t picture anyone offering him the position, but if they needed a leader and he was left to make important decisions then logically it ought to be him. Didn't that only make sense? 

“Oh for… Didn’t I just say no more thinking?”

“Sorry,” Eilan said. “It’s just that if we need a leader… But then, I don’t want to sound… ”

“There’s no wrong answer. Do you want to be the leader?”

“I think… No,” Eilan quickly added as the Iron Bull gave him a grim look, “I feel like I’m being forced into that position already, and it’s just I haven’t been given the proper title. What scares me is I’m not sure I have the right qualifications.” 

The Iron Bull grunted. “How so?”

Eilan sighed, chuckling as he looked up. “Let’s be honest, Bull. How could it be me? Why should it be me? I’m still relearning my powers day by day. I couldn’t accomplish anything without the rest of you and the chief reason I’m kept around is the mark on my hand. Can any of that make me a leader?”

The Iron Bull did some thinking of his own before he said: “When it comes time to pick a leader, my people don’t look to the strongest or the smartest or even the most talented. We pick the ones that are willing to make the hard decisions and live with the consequences. So let’s look at the ways things are.” 

Eilan nodded, taking comfort in the notion of only dealing with what was and not what could be.

“Cullen is leading your forces and admirably so, but he’s just a soldier. He wants to be given his marching orders. He wants someone to tell him what to do and where to do it so he can do the same for those under his command. He shouldn’t be making big decisions, and Cassandra’s no different. Leliana wants to gather information and secrets, but she’s your spymaster. She works best when she’s given motivation or a purpose. Josephine wants to make people work together, and she gets people to do what they should be doing anyway, but for that you need a cause. Ambassadors have to represent something much larger than themselves.”

“Meaning?”

“Why did it take so long for the Inquisition to form? They had that divine mandate or whatever you call it before you came along. So why didn’t they get this thing started right away?”

“I’m... not sure.”

“That’s because you’re convinced everyone else knows what they’re doing,” the Iron Bull fondly observed. “Despite all the evidence that no one knows shit.”

“Cassandra and Cullen know--”

“Spare me, boss. What those two know isn’t nearly enough and that troubles them. And all of them have clearly made choices they deeply regret. They’re all afraid. They look up at that giant fucking hole in the sky and despair. One big fucking mistake in a life full of fucking mistakes. And then they can’t move. They can’t do anything. They don’t want to fuck up again. But there’s still this hole in the sky. Don’t you get how lucky they are that they found you?”

“I’m just… some person, Bull. I was barely a person when they found me.”

“You were the person they needed,” the Iron Bull argued. “And you stepped up. You get shit done. You go out there and help people. You forge alliances and punch the lights out of dickbags. You’re the best thing this Inquisition has got going for it.”

Eilan laughed. “Oh honestly.”

“What?” 

“You make me sound… You make it sound like no one’s ever hit someone before.”

“Not with such a fancy title or great timing. Our Vint says some snappy one-liner he was probably practicing the whole time you were trying to get back. The other Vint gets all pale and sad and then boom. Fucker’s down for the count. I couldn’t have been prouder.”

“I’m glad I could make your day at least.”

“It was a good day,” the Iron Bull readily agreed. “‘Sides, you never know. Maybe if you seal that Breach, the Chantry will get off its ass, and all of those soldiers go home and get fat.”

Eilan frowned thoughtfully. “Could that happen?”

“It could. It won’t. But it could.”

“It’s up to us then. Me?”

“It can be us," the Iron Bull cheerfully replied. "So far I’ve got no complaints working for you. Although I probably would have not been nice to the mages. At all.”

“Then… Is it wrong that I don’t want this to be over so quickly? I don’t want people to come to harm due to my actions or inactions but it’s… I’ve been enjoying this.”

I think it’s a pretty honest way to look at it. It means you realize that there’s a lot of hard work ahead.”

“Hopefully some fun as well.”

The Iron Bull seemed amused by that. He leaned down and closer. “You know, I’ve got some ideas of fun things we could try.”

“Such as?”

“Well, let’s say some of the activities would be better to do elsewhere. Alone. Or at least with less people.”

“I…”

“You know,” another voice called out as it approached them. “I watched you stand there with my drink for awhile, and I thought to myself... Surely he’ll remember that hot drinks cool down over time.”

Eilan blinked, looking over his shoulder. “Oh. I… Sorry, Cullen.”

“No harm done.” Cullen glanced up at the Qunari. “Bull.”

“Cullen.” 

The hot chocolate had cooled considerably but he’d been practicing his fire spells and it would be a simple thing to-- Eilan considered both men. He moved away from them. 

“Where are you going?” Cullen asked, amused.

“Over here. I’m just going to warm this up so don’t…” He backed up a little further. “Please don’t overreact. It’s a small spell and Dorian says I’m good at it so... I’m… I’m going to start it soon, all right?”

The Iron Bull held up his hands. “I’m unarmed so be gentle.”

“Maker’s Sake…” Cullen rolled his eyes. “Eilan, I told you I was sorry.”

“I know.”

“Then you could have done that right here. I wouldn’t have tackled you to the ground or tried to stop you.”

“That’s probably why he didn’t bother,” the Qunari pointed out with a grin.

Eilan blushed as he glared at the Iron Bull. Then he warmed up the mug, flames rising from his fingertips. “Done. Um. It’s not that hot but I can stay here until it cools down again?”

“This is ridiculous,” Cullen muttered. “Will you please just come back over here? I promise not to make any sudden movements.”

“All right.”

“Thank you.” Cullen gently pried the mug from his hands as he stood next to them. He took a sip then eyed the Iron Bull suspiciously. 

“What?”

Cullen just kept staring at him.

“Don’t give me that. I didn’t do anything.”

More staring.

“All right, all right. I might have told him about one of your secret templar moves. He might not have liked that.”

Cullen rolled his eyes again and glanced over at the mage. “Eilan. Do you see yourself giving me any reason at all to block an attack with a shield? No? I shouldn’t think so. If I ever used a move like that near you, it would be in your defense. ”

Eilan couldn’t help it. He smiled warmly. “Right. I know that.”

Cullen turned faintly crimson before coughing and clearing his throat. 

The Iron Bull chuckled even as Cullen glared at him again.

When the Commander gave up on getting the Qunari to stop smirking, he asked: “What happened to your drink, Eilan? Didn’t you have two mugs?”

“I, um…” Eilan forced himself not to laugh as the Iron Bull shuffled some snow around with one boot, obscuring the other mug from view. “I already drank it.”

“Hm. Well, that’s one group down. I have another set to train in an hour or so. They just keep coming. I could do without so many pilgrims in the mix, but they’ll work out.”

“I’m glad you’re getting more recruits.” 

Cullen grinned in a boyishly handsome way. There was a familiar fondness to it that made Eilan blush profusely. “As if you didn’t know.”

“I don’t think I do.”

“Suffice it to say, I’m awfully glad you punched that Magister in the face.”

The Iron Bull laughed heartily. “See? What did I tell you?”

He was never ever going to live this down. “Yes, yes,” Eilan murmured. “My ability to punch people is nothing short of miraculous.”

“It’s a shame I missed it.”

“You should have seen the grim look on his face,” the Iron Bull said with a smile that Cullen returned. “He just came out of that portal ready to shove that guy back through it. Hm. What’s wrong, boss?”

Eilan had gone back to staring down at his own hands, wondering why it was that he’d only punched the mage and not done worse. “I keep forgetting he’s still alive. He deserves… What I gave him is the least of what he’s earned. Now and in that future.”

“You’ll deal with him,” the Iron Bull promised. “And uh, hey. The future doesn’t sound… Okay, no. It sounds like the worst future ever, um... Well, I died killing a bunch of demons, which is… Okay, no… fuck demons...”

“I’ll drink to that,” Cullen muttered before doing so.

“Okay. Actual silver-lining time: dying killing things is the best way to go,” the Iron Bull mused. “But I don’t want it to be demons. It needs to be a dragon that finishes me off. That would be pretty epic.”

Eilan made a face, not really liking the reminder of what had happened with the demons anymore than he relished the thought of a dragon biting the Qunari in two. Or worse. With his luck, he’d be there to witness it and he’d never forgive himself.

“You’re imagining how it would play out, aren’t you?” The Iron Bull asked.

“Yes, and I’m not liking it.”

“That’s because you’re letting the dragon win. And you think too much. He just never stops.” The last part was directed at Cullen who instantly nodded his agreement.

Eilan shrugged, still caught up in how much he sincerely hoped that no one -- particularly Bull or Cullen-- would die for him. Or because of him. Or with him present.

“Aw, boss. Come on now. Obviously I’m in no rush,” the Iron Bull added, looking ever so slightly sheepish. 

Cullen set a hand on Eilan’s shoulder. “Whatever happened, whatever we had to do... It was worth it. Already that future, horrid as it might have been, is a little more impossible and very unlikely because of you.”

“It won’t be worth it to me if you die.”

Cullen snorted. “Eilan. You do realize I’m not much older than you. I’m anticipating that I will live a good deal longer.”

“I’ve got some good years left too. But I’m not saying how old I am,” the Iron Bull muttered.

“Either way? You both better not die on me. I don’t care how many dragons I have to kill or Magisters I have to punch.”

“I hope it’s a lot,” the Iron Bull said with a satisfied sigh. He was obviously imagining scenarios of his own. “That would perfect.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Merry Christmas!!!
> 
> \- This fic is now roughly 142 pages long and not nearly done. I will probably post at least one more chapter this week. Two if it's a cliffhanger because I personally loathe those.
> 
> \- One thing I am wondering is how would people feel if Eilan also got involved with Dorian? Right now it could go either way. I like the idea of them having a great friendship but I also like what they could have beyond that. Obviously I'm debating and seeing where the story takes me but... I'm curious.


	8. Chapter 8

*

They couldn’t have done anything less than to celebrate their victory over the Breach, but Eilan felt uneasy. During the festivites, he managed a smile for the sake of those under his command but he kept looking up at the skies. 

He still didn’t know the source of the Breach or his mark let alone anything that had happened around and after the time of the Conclave. Perhaps it was best? Perhaps the only reason he could use his powers and close these rifts was that whatever had happened wasn’t something he could access, but he’d felt restless.

“Solas confirms the skies are scarred but calm,” Cassandra said as she joined him. “We’ve reports of lingering rifts and many questions remain, but this was a victory. Word of your heroism has spread.”

“I couldn’t have done this on my own.”

“And we couldn’t have done this without you. Without the alliance you forged.”

“I suppose only…”

“Only?” she prompted.

“It’s as you said. Many questions remain and this feels… It should make me feel a sense of relief, but it doesn’t.”

“I feel the same way,” she admitted. “I suppose we need a new focus.”

Then the Chantry bells were ringing and they ran for the gates. There they joined Cullen and shortly after that, a young man’s voice pleaded for entry. 

“People are coming to hurt you,” the boy said, standing over the bodies of several templars, hat obscuring his eyes. “The templars are coming to kill you.”

“Templars?” Cullen asked angrily. “This is their response to our talks with the mages? Attacking blindly? We would have aided them.”

“They are past aid now,” the boy said. “The red templars went to the Elder One.” He turned to Eilan, moving closer, seemingly oblivious to Cullen’s sword being inches away from his face. “You know him, he knows you, and he knows you took his mages. There. The Elder One.” 

Eilan flinched after glancing up the mountainside. 

“He’s very angry that you took his mages.” 

“I know… I know the other one too. The templar. He was at the Conclave.”

“Samson?” Cullen swore under his breath. “How do you know him?”

“I don’t… I don’t remember. Cullen, I need a plan. Anything.”

“Then I’ll give you one.” 

Preparing the soldiers and the trebuchets didn’t take very long. Unfortunately, it did little to change the fact that an army of red Templars were marching on Haven. 

The strange young man joined them at the Chantry with a very wounded Chancellor Roderick.

“He tried to stop a templar. The blade went deep. He’s going to die.”

“What a charming boy.”

“I wasn’t wrong. We got his attention,” Varric managed once they were all inside. “And then some. Me and my big mouth.”

“On the bright side, you did say you’d kill a dragon for me,” the Iron Bull added.

“Famous last words,” Eilan observed. The looks he got from those in his party, made him wish he hadn’t. 

“They had better not be,” Cassandra said, summing up everyone’s reaction quite succinctly. 

“Herald,” Cullen called out. “Our position is…Not good. That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us.”

“I’ve seen an archdemon,” the boy murmured. “I was in the Fade, but it looked like that.”

“I don’t care what it looks like,” Cullen growled, not keen on being interrupted and probably not keen on the boy either. “It has cut a path for that army. They’ll kill everyone in Haven.”

“The Elder One doesn’t care about the village. He only wants the Herald.”

Cullen’s eyes narrowed. “And did he send you to tell the Herald that?”

“He didn’t need to.” 

“He’s here for this,” Eilan said, looking down at his hands. 

“He wants to kill you. No one else matters but he’ll crush them to get to you. I don’t like him.”

“You don’t like…” Cullen’s hands clenched themselves into fists and then sighed. “Eilan, there are no tactics that will make this survivable.”

 _Not for everyone_ , Eilan thought, but he waited for the Commander to continue.

“The only thing that slowed them down was that avalanche. We could turn the remaining trebuchets, cause one last slide.”

“We’re overun,” Eilan said after a moment. “We’d bury Haven.”

“We’re dying. There’s… All we can do now, is decide how. Many don’t get that choice.”

“Yes, that,” Cole mused. “Chancellor Roderick wants to help. He wants to say this before he dies.”

And there it was. A path and a way to make this survivable for nearly everyone. Whether it was Andraste and Eilan was chosen by her or just one man’s desire for a moment’s peace, there was a way to keep people safe.

“What about it, Cullen?” Eilan asked. “Will it work?”

“Possibly. If he can show us the path, but what of your escape?”

Eilan looked away from Cullen, from all of them. He was what the Elder One wanted, and right at that moment he was trying to find a way to make his peace with whatever would happen out there. He wasn’t sure he would die, but his going out there would save other people. All of the people he couldn’t even bring himself to face at that moment. But if he could face that monster and stop his army... If he could prevent what he’d seen... Then he would. And he would have to do it however he was able. 

He knew Cullen was still behind him. A hand almost landed on his shoulder but then it didn’t. He didn’t think it was so much that Cullen didn’t want to touch him as that the contact would make things even harder. If not for the Commander than for the Herald. And everyone was watching them. Staring at them, studying them. And it was… 

Eilan closed his eyes, wishing they would stop.

Cullen moved away. “Inquisition! Follow Chancellor Roderick through the Chantry! Move!”

Eilan forced himself to turn around, after exhaling sharply. 

“Herald,” Roderick said, “if you are meant for this, if the Inquisition is meant for this, I pray for you.”

Eilan nodded, unsure of what to say. He hoped he was managing a calm expression. He focused on projecting the proper air of certainty that was required in a situation like this. He needed to remember why he was doing this, and he thought Cullen was right. He could do this. After all, he had no interest in dying just yet. There was so much left that he wanted to see and do. And there was an infinite amount of work left to be done, and it was up to him, wasn’t it? 

“A fucking lot of good that’ll do,” the Iron Bull said just as Cullen came back. 

“He is dying, you know,” Cullen said with a stern look. 

“Yeah, well…”

“So they’ll load the trebuchets,” Cullen said to Eilan, pointing to the soldiers running out of the Chantry Hall. “Keep the Elder One’s attention until we’re above the treeline.”

“I’ll handle him until you’re safe,” Eilan said, moving away.

Cullen caught his arm. “If you… If any of us are to have a chance, let that thing hear you.”

“I will.”

“And Eilan,” Cullen murmured, leaning in closely. “You’re going to stop him. Then you’re going to find a way back. There’s nothing else for it, understand? You’re not allowed to die on me either.” 

Eilan managed a small smile. “I know.”

A hand landed on his shoulder as Cullen took his leave. It was Blackwall’s. “All right then, Herald. Who’s going with you?”

Dorian crossed his arms. “Well, I’m not leaving. I promised to protect you.”

Eilan colored slightly as Blackwall’s quiet concern and Dorian deciding he was going to go with, made him feel infinitely better. “Yes, but, Dorian… That was in the future.”

The Tevinter mage scoffed. “As if that matters. Regardless of when I make them, I keep my promises.”

*

Eilan was torn between more embarrassment and a great deal of fondness when none of them opted to leave. Everyone had a reason, and all of them were very quick to share it. Then they followed him out to the trebuchet and stayed with him until the dragon came. Until the fire rained down on them. And then he ordered them to move. Red crackling fire and a chain of explosions set him reeling far away from the others.

The Elder One slowly stepped through and then out of the lingering flames. Eilan watched him, careful only to glance up at the treeline when the creature turned to look at the dragon roared behind them.

And then the dragon moved closer, all but blotting out the moon as it screeched and roared again, head lowering to the ground. Eilan flinched. An archdemon and the elongated, red lyrium-infused remains of a Tevinter magister were not something he imagined himself capable of contending with entirely on his own. Not for very long, but he didn’t need to contend with them for long. Just until the others got to the treeline. 

Reminded of his resolve, he shrank from the dragon as he stepped forward. It was still roaring loudly.

“Enough,” its master called out. “Here you are. Pretender.”

“Who… who are you?”

“You toy with forces beyond your ken when it is you of all mortals who should exalt the Elder One.”

“Why is that? Why are you doing this?” 

“Mortals beg for truth they cannot have. It is beyond what you are, little mistake. Beyond what I was. Know me. Know what you have defied with your Inquisition,” the Elder One said before sneering. “I am the Will that is Corypheus. You will kneel.”

He had to keep him talking even if it seemed clear that the Will that was Corypheus wasn’t going to be given any answers. At least not any that would fill in the gaps in his memory. Corypheus seemed to enjoy talking though. Its scarred, strange lips curved into a sneer. 

“I don’t understand.”

“Your understanding is not required. If you gain it, consider yourself blessed. I am here for the anchor.” The creature held up a glowing red orb in a clawed, black hand. “The process of removing it begins now.”

His hand began to glow bright green, palm throbbing. 

“It is your fault, Herald. You interrupted a ritual years in the planning. Instead of dying, you stole its purpose.”

A flash of red magic had his hand sizzling, crackling, with green light shining out. 

“I do not know how you survived, clinging to the wretched, empty husk you were. But what you are now, you owe to me. What you stole from me.”

“What are you talking about? What is it you want from me?”

“What marks you as touched, what you flail at rifts, I crafted to assault the very heavens.”

The pain and light grew worse. Eilan crumpled to the ground, clutching his wrist, still mindful of the dragon. But the dragon seemed to be the very least of his problems.

“And you used the anchor to undo my work. The gall.”

“What is this thing meant to do?”

“It is meant to bring certainty where there is none. For you the certainty that I would always come for it.”

Corypheus moved forward, grabbing Eilan’s wrist and easily hefting him up into the air. Eilan flailed but didn’t lash out. He hung from the creature’s gnarled grip, too confused to do much besides grit his teeth and stare. And all the while, the Elder One kept talking. 

“Know this, little thief, I once breached the Fade in the name of another. To serve the Old Gods of the Empire in person. I found only chaos and corruption. Dead whispers. For a thousand years, I was confused. No more. 

I have gathered the will to return under no name but my own. To champion withered Tevinter and corrupt this blighted world. Beg now for a merciful end. Beg as you should have the first time we met. And beg that I succeed. For I have seen the throne of the Gods. And it was empty.”

Eilan was flung violently at the trebuchet, hitting it with his back and falling against its wooden frame.

“The anchor is permanent. You have spoiled it through your stumbling,” the monstrous Magister said, spitting out the words in a low, angry tone. 

Eilan scrambled to his feet, grabbing at the nearest weapon, a dagger that someone had dropped. He wasn’t sure how much more of a distraction he needed to be, but he had a feeling the Elder One was nearly done talking. 

Corypheus moved forward, his dragon flanking him and matching his strides. “So be it. I shall begin again, find another way to give this world the Nation --and God-- it requires.”

And there it was. The signal flare just over the tops of the fence and flashing over the ridge where two mountains met. They’d made it to the treeline. That he had bought them all the time they had needed. The Will that was Corypheus might have been formidable, but it certainly didn’t seem to be all-knowing. Not if it could make so many mistakes.

“And you,” the Elder One continued, “I will not suffer even an unknowing rival. You must die.”

Eilan looked down toward the firing mechanism of the trebuchet, clutching the sword he’d located. Then back up. “Is that all? I’ve never met anyone who spoke so much and said so little.”

The creature inclined its large head. 

“But it is your arrogance that blinds you. Good to know. And if I’m dying, it’s not today.”

He kicked the trebuchet and its chain spun round and round before releasing its weight. The stone crashed high up against the mountainside. And then the snow began to slide. 

Eilan began to run as they looked away. He kept on running as the dragon roared, closing his eyes briefly, preparing himself for the onslaught of flame, claws, or fangs. 

Nothing came. 

Behind him came the rush of wings as the dragon flew off. Everything shook and crumbled as he fell through wooden boards, down to an underground passage.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seeing as this chapter ends vaguely on a cliffhanger (even if what happens next is sort of obvious), I'll post another chapter either tonight or tomorrow.


	9. Chapter 9

*

Eilan woke up trapped under wooden boards with his ribs aching. He took a moment to appreciate being alive and that nothing about him had been changed for the worse. His hand was glowing fiercely, but it didn’t hurt and it was a comfort in the gloom.

When he tried to get up, he found that he was stuck. His hair was caught under boards, more than likely pinned back by loose nails.

He remembered the stories of the Hero of Fereldan and how Surana had shorn her locks because of the darkspawn. You couldn’t give them anything to grab at, after all. Or maybe because she was out of the tower at last, and she could reinvent herself altogether.

Then he wondered briefly if he’d ever personally cared about his hair. Why had he let it get so long? Other mages had commented on it and liked it. Vivenne had hardly been the first to brush it or braid it for him. Was that why? Had he simply wanted to be liked even if it only was for his hair? To be touched even in a casual way by willing hands?

There had been Templars that stared and there had been Templars who tried to take advantage. He hadn’t wanted that. More importantly, they hadn’t wanted him, not really. He didn’t protest properly enough for the wrong ones, and the right ones… The right ones had been like Cullen. Always right there but always unattainable. And why would anyone want someone who was little better than a houseplant in terms of their reactions? 

He felt his eyes close briefly. It had been quite some time since he’d had a moment of quiet, but he didn’t want it in such a place with such miserable thoughts as his only companionship. The Iron Bull was right. Thinking rarely helped.

At any rate, he knew he needed to move and that he didn’t need his hair as much as he needed to not be where he was. So he hacked at his braided hair with his newly acquired dagger until he was free. 

After finding a staff in a chest, Eilan had made his way through the tunnels, the dark illuminated by the glow of his hand and whiteness of swirling snow. There he’d fended off demons until he located an exit. At which point he began his arduous trek towards… Well, whatever he could find. 

At first the wind howled around him, and he thought it was better to have the cold clawing at him than a dragon. Then the wind died down until there was nothing left. Perhaps if he could move faster, he would have made more noise. But the sound of his footsteps and his staff against the snow was very faint and muted.

It was so quiet that he had to stop from time to time. He would close his eyes and listening intently for noise of any kind. But the tree boughs only swayed silently and no animal seemed foolish enough to risk venturing through the same mountain pass that he was traveling. 

He couldn’t recall having been so alone since he woke up in his cell. What he wouldn’t have given for even the snap of a branch or the crackling of a fire. But dwelling too long on what he didn’t and what he might have done for it was dangerous, even if he felt like he was the only being for miles on end. 

Trudging through the snow that nearly came up to his knees, he finally heard wolves howling and spotted embers alongside other evidence of camping. That was something. Although he didn't exactly need to encounter a wolf. And the campfires he found had long since been abandoned.

 _Find me_ , he kept thinking even as he searched for the others on his own, _oh please find me_. 

Bull would have been ideal. Bull would be warm. Warm and massive and he would probably talk excitedly about the archdemon. And he wouldn’t ask questions. And he could easily carry Eilan the rest of the way. 

Cullen would… Would Cullen be willing to carry him? What would that be like? Would he be as warm as the Qunari? 

Or did it matter? Any of his companions would be the right one to find him at this point. But were they all in one piece? Had they all made it? Were they all waiting for him across the next ridge or was there still another peak and valley before he found them again? If he found them.

He wished he felt more inclined towards prayer or asking the Maker for anything. What he knew for sure was that he wanted to be done with the snow and the quiet and the doubt that what little he’d been able to do had been anywhere near enough. 

Eilan staggered along a mountain pass and blinked, spotting the red glow of firelight just ahead. 

“There! It’s him.” Cullen.

“Thank the Maker.” Cassandra.

Eilan sank to his knees in the snow, pitching forward, but Cullen stopped him from keeling over completely. Eilan let himself fall forward, burying his cold face against the furred pauldrons of the Commander’s armor.

“I couldn’t find you,” Eilan said hoarsely. “I wanted so badly to find you. But it was cold and quiet and you were so far away.”

“Eilan.”

“Cullen?”

“You did find us,” Cullen pointed out gently. 

“Oh.”

There was hand in his hair. Briefly. “What happened here?”

“Got stuck. Don’t laugh.”

“I won’t,” Cullen murmured. “Maker, but it’s good to see you. Are you injured?”

“Ribs. Maybe more. I don’t know.” The ache was dulled by how little it mattered to Eilan at that moment. Even with his knees and legs growing numb from the snow, he didn’t want to move. Didn’t want Cullen to move. He wanted to stay like this. 

He heard Cassandra sigh. “I am pleased to see you as well, Herald. I shall be even more pleased once we get you out of the snow and to a healer.”

“Do you think Bull is warm?” Eilan asked Cullen, curling up against him. “Right now? I hope he’s warm. Do Qunari get cold? Do you?”

“I… That is, I am not sure... Cassandra, it’s possible he has a concussion.”

“Or he’s simply cold, tired, and hurt. We were looking for him for hours.” 

Eilan blinked a bit, whimpering in protest when Cassandra attempted to pry him from Cullen.

“Don’t, Cassandra. I’ve got him,” Cullen murmured. He took Eilan with him as he got to his feet, arms moving under Eilan’s knees so he could carry him properly. 

“Who are you talking about?” Eilan wondered aloud. 

Cullen chuckled. “It hardly matters, Trevelyan.” 

Eilan leaned against him, closing his eyes. He felt a little… Well, ridiculous, but he wasn’t about to tell Cullen to put him down. 

*

“We cannot simply ignore this. We must find a way.”

“Who put you in charge? We need a consensus or we have nothing.”

“Please, we must use reason. Without the infrastructure of the Inquisition, we h--”

“It can’t come from nowhere.”

“She didn’t say it could.”

Eilan sat up to watch them, feeling guilty. He’d actually been able to sleep soundly through the arguments, smiling at the bickering and loud shouts. He’d savored it the same way he had the gruff snorting coming from the Brontos or the snuffling sound of a Mabari nearby. Noise was better than quiet even if he had to admit that he really, really did not care for the way things seemed to be headed.

“You need rest,” Mother Giselle told him.

“They’ve been at it for hours.”

“They’ve had that luxury, thanks to you.”

She meant well, Eilan understood that, but it was difficult to see how this luxury was a positive thing. Had he died, is this still what they would have done with the time he’d given them? 

Josephine and Leliana clearly were working to support one another’s position. Cullen and Cassandra seemed unwilling to completely agree with one another, but they certainly seemed more inclined to do that than to listen to anyone else.

“The enemy could not follow, and with time to doubt, we turned to blame.”

And Eilan had nearly turned into an ice sculpture traversing the Frostbacks. He thought about saying as much but he didn’t. It seemed impolite.

“In-fighting may threaten us as much as this Corypheus.”

Eilan sighed heavily. Could that be true? “Do we know where he is? Where his forces are?”

“We are not sure where we are. Which is why despite the numbers he still commands, there is no sign of him. That, or you are believed dead. Or that without Haven we are thought helpless. Or he girds for another attack. I cannot claim to know the mind of that creature. Only his effect on us.”

Eilan shook his head, keeping his features neutral, but he felt restless. And more than a little irritated. This is what they would have done if he hadn't made it back? If he’d died there in Haven, they would just be sitting here the same way they were now? No wonder he’d so often felt the burden of leadership had already been given to him. But the responsibility had also given him enough determination and incentive to fight. And to live. 

The Iron Bull was right about that too. That wasn’t to say Eilan thought poorly of Cullen or Leliana or Cullen or Josephine. It just seemed absurd that making a decision could be so difficult, but the Qunari had read each of them perfectly. Which made Bull seem both like a wise source of counsel and an extremely dangerous man if crossed. For that information in the wrong hands, combined with Eilan’s death, could have destroyed this second Inquisition altogether. 

The vitality of his own role, the very urgent necessity of his continued presence, was suddenly real to Eilan in a way that it had not been before. It was a relief and yet it was strange. He had never been needed before, and now he was. Only he wasn’t sure the other four had realized it yet. Why hadn’t they? Or had they? Were they simply too scared of what that meant? Or what would happen if all four of them made the same final, fatal blunder?

“If they’re arguing about what we do next, I need to be there,” he said, determinedly.

“Another heated voice won’t help.”

“Mine is not a heated voice.”

“I suppose that it is not, but even so it would be better to not participate. Our leaders struggle because of what we survivors witnessed. We saw our defender stand and fall.”

Mother Giselle closed her eyes briefly. Eilan studied her, more than a little confused. 

“And now we have seen him return to us. The more the enemy is beyond us, the more miraculous your actions appear. And the more our trials seem ordained. That is hard to accept, no? What we have been called to endure. What we perhaps must come to believe.”

Eilan looked down even as he sat up. It was more than hard to accept. It was nearly impossible. “I didn’t die. I escaped an avalanche. Barely perhaps, but I did not die.”

“Of course, and the dead cannot return from across the veil. But the people know what they saw. Or perhaps what they needed to see. The Maker works both in the moment and how it is remembered.” 

Didn’t she understand that he couldn’t remember the majority of the moments that had led him here? He recognized that Mother Giselle was trying to comfort him. He did, but she wasn’t succeeding.

“Can we truly know the heavens are not with us?”

Eilan looked away again. “Mother Giselle, I may not know much. I will admit that, but I am certain that what I believe doesn’t matter.”

“And what do you believe?”

“I believe that if this is another test, it’s one we’re completely failing at the moment. I believe that it would be detrimental to see my my life thus far as a series of ordained and divine trials. Yes, I am sure we’re made to endure hardship and I would never suggest that what has happened everyone else here is less than horrific. But I cannot accept that the Rite of Tranquility is one that a person is meant to endure.” Eilan got to his feet. “I cannot. I will not.”

Mother Giselle did not scold him. She didn’t correct him. She didn’t tell him he was wrong. She simply nodded. “What else do you believe?”

“I believe that… Lies or not, Corypheus is a real, physical threat. We cannot match that with hope alone. Excuse me.” 

He moved away from her, leaning against a tent post and closing his eyes for a moment. Even if his Tranquil state had been more than a complicated arrangement and possibly a result of his behavior in the Circle… Even if the Rite had been a result of crippling weakness, being easily influenced, or lacking in proper talent, Eilan could not imagine being in his right mind and thinking that what was done to him had been divinely inspired.

He did not feel that what had happened to other Tranquil mages could ever be justified. Certainly not in the name of the Maker or Andraste. They were far away and unknowable, just like so much of the world. And to Eilan that was a comfort. To know that neither one had not been there the day a human, templar hand had pushed the brand into his forehead. When a human, templar hand had sealed him up --seemingly forever-- within the confines of his own mind.

He took a deep breath, eyes still closed. No. Now was not the time to try to understand what his life was going to amount to. What it meant or what it is for. How could he ever know until he had done any of the things he was meant to do? And did it matter? Trying to understand that which could not be understood would not help him. It would not help the other leaders of the Inquisition. As he opened his eyes, he saw all four of them still divided and still struggling. 

He had no idea what to do when the singing began. His eyes went wide and stayed that way when other voices joined in. Eventually though, he closed his eyes. He concentrated on the voices he knew, recognizing Leliana’s and blinking a bit as he realized he’d heard Cullen’s before. 

He opened his eyes again, surprised to find that nearly everyone in the camp was singing. Men and women began kneeling before him. He wanted to be touched by it. Moved to some sort of religious epiphany that would aid him in the days to come. He wanted to feel that way, the way he was expected to be feeling, but he just felt scared. Too scared to move, and suddenly it was hard to breathe. 

So Eilan stood there, trying to keep his hands from shaking as they all looked at him. As they all projected whatever hopes or beliefs they had for the future onto him, innocently but forcefully making him all the more responsible for their safe-keeping. Binding him further to their cause even as he found it all the more painfully obvious that he couldn’t be the Herald they thought he already was.

“Faith is made stronger by facing doubt,” Mother Giselle told him. “Untested, it is nothing.”

That much Eilan could appreciate. He had faith in the Inquisition and the men and women he worked with. He could believe in them far more than he could in whatever else was out there. He just hoped that all of this faith in him wasn’t misplaced. 

*

It was a relief when Solas approached him. “A word?” 

Eilan all but scrambled to get away from everyone else, not wanting to see. Not wanting to know what Cullen or Josephine or Leliana or Cassandra thought of him at that particular moment. 

“She is a wise woman,” Solas said. He lit a torch of veilfire once they were in a dark, deserted clearing over in snow. “Worth heeding. Her kind understand the moments that unify a cause... Or fracture it.”

Eilan choked back a sob and Solas turned to look at him. “She is very understanding and kind, but I cannot draw strength or inspiration from her words. I can’t be what they want me to be. I cannot believe what they want me to believe.”

“What is it that you should believe? What is it that you do believe?”

“I’m not the Herald of Andraste. I do not believe what I went through was mandated by the heavens. That the Maker, in His infinite wisdom, took away my Tranquility and gave me to the people of Thedas as some sort of divine present. That is not all that I am. That is not who I am.”

“Who are you?”

“Someone who, for whatever reason, was given the ability to do what must be done. Someone who was given a second chance not only for others but for the sake of his own self. But it wasn’t ordained. It wasn’t.”

“Good.”

Eilan risked a glance up at Solas.

“You are not required to believe what everyone else believes. In truth, if such a belief does not provide you with a sense of purpose, some measure of solace,” the elf offered up a sliver of a smile at the accidental pun, “it never will."

“But I--”

Solas regarded him with a raised brow. His eyes were narrowed. “Eilan, enough of this. You are a person, are you not?”

“I… What? Of course I am.”

“A person is, ultimately, comprised entirely of what it is that they wish to be. Do you wish to be molded like some bewildered spirit? Are you to become only that which others speak of or seek from you?”

Eilan managed to shake his head.

Solas’ expression softened. “I know you feel lost. I know, and I know you need guidance. Are you seeking that from me?”

Eilan nodded.

“It is as simple as it is to draw breath.” The elf moved closer. Eilan stood stock still. Chilled fingers gently pressed against his eyelids. “Close your eyes.”

Eilan obeyed. The fingers left him. 

“Breathe in,” Solas murmured, “Take in their words, their songs, their voices. Open your eyes. Breathe out, and in that moment, keep what you have a need for. That which begs to be remembered.”

Eilan trembled slightly, but he exhaled. He opened his eyes. The elf had moved further away. “And the rest?” 

“What you do not need will scatter like so many leaves in the wind. So breathe. Then breathe again.”

Eilan did so.

“Does this help you?”

Eilan nodded.

“For the sake of this world... In spite of it... You must continue to be who you are. What you are. Remember that you are free. Now. We must speak of other matters.”

“Of course. Thank you, Solas.”

“There is no need,” the elf said, expression unreadable. “The orb Corypheus carried, the power he used against you. It is elven. Corypheus used the orb to open the breach. Unlocking it must have caused the explosion that destroyed the the Conclave. I do not yet know how Corypheus survived... Nor am I certain how people will react when they learn of the orb's origin.”

"What is it, Solas? How do you know about it?"

“They were foci, used to channel ancient magicks. I have seen such things in the Fade. Old memories of older magic. Corypheus might think it Tevinter. His Empire's magic was built on the bones of my people."

Eilan nodded grimly. It wasn't the same thing. Barely a ripple in a pond compared to what had been done to Solas' people, yet he couldn't help but think of the ocularum.

"Knowing or not, he risks our alliance. I cannot allow it."

"This whole mess is confusing," Eilan allowed. "I can see how elves might be an easy target."

"History would agree. But there are steps we can take to prevent such a distraction."

"I'm listening. What would you suggest?"

“By attacking the Inquisition, Corypheus has changed it. Changed _you_. Scout to the North. Be their guide. There is a place that waits for a force to hold it. There is a place where the Inquisition can build... Grow..."

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And another chapter will go up tomorrow. Or tonight. 
> 
> I don't want to post too much in a day, but I'm at 200 pages now fic-wise. And writing in a second google doc.


	10. Chapter 10

*

Scouting was not really something Eilan understood very much about. He faked it well enough, he imagined, despite the knowing looks for his more regular companions. Like Varric and Bull.

Every now and then, he had to glance back at Solas. The elf seemed faintly amused and would indicate a path with his staff or a nod of his head. Solas had felt it better to keep his role in all of this as private as possible. Far better for Eilan to allow most to assume either divine intervention or a fever dream was leading the Herald in the right direction.

All the same, Solas’ role made Eilan feel a bit like a herded sheep. At least initially. In time, he got the hang of it, and he found he enjoyed it. Climbing rocks and cliffs was nothing new. He just pretended there would be herbs there and often there were.

More importantly, being of use, of aid to the people following him… That was something he could draw strength and hope from. He often looked back and watched everyone as they headed in his direction. He felt a fondness replace the odd pressures that had come over him during their song. In those moments, he felt like so much was possible and he was grateful for each and every one of them. Proud to be needed by so many different sorts of people.

On one ridge, he found a large clump of elfroot and eagerly clipped it. Mother Giselle had mentioned needed more of the stuff for poultices.

“Do you ever say no?”

Eilan froze, still crouched.

 _Do you ever say no? Can a Tranquil do that? Can you do anything? Why even bring one to the Conclave?_ Someone had said that. A templar who had sneered at him from across the room. Samson. They’d been alone and the man had offered to introduce him to someone. Someone who could help, but he didn’t need help. The other mages helped him. So he’d gone to other parts of the temple to avoid him. And then he’d heard the woman and…

“Eilan?”

There was a hand on his forehead. Then his cheek. Then his neck. Blinking hard, Eilan relaxed as he finally noticed Cullen.

“I’m fine,” he managed. “You just startled me.”

“Let’s try this again,” Cullen said with a sigh. “Are you all right? You were so eager to leave this morning that I don’t think anyone made sure...”

“I’m fine, Cullen. It’s just that he said that to me… Samson. He wanted… Then someone needed me and I can’t remember.”

“Do you remember where this was?”

“The Conclave.” But everything that had happened before leaving the Fade still seemed muted, shrouded in a grey mist.

“We ought to set up camp.”

“Later. I'm scouting and I need to gather more elfroot. There’s poultices that need making …” He trailed off as Cullen dragged him to his feet. “Cullen, honestly, there’s no need…”

“There certainly is. I can come back up here and gather elfroot myself if you like. Anyone else could. Anyone else will, all right?”

“It’s just a memory. Barely that. I’m not fragile. I’m not going to fall apart again. I’m not. So you don’t have to worry so much.”

Cullen raised an eyebrow then sighed quietly. “Of course you’re not fragile, but I can worry as much as I please. I said something and then you were-- The look on your face… And I put it there.”

“You didn’t.”

“I’ll work on locating him. He will be dealt with.”

“If… If you want to.”

“And I do.”

Eilan hesitated. “Cullen, I think… That is… We’re friends, right?”

Cullen blinked and then smiled. “Right. Of course we are.”

“Good.”

Silence. Cullen was clearly waiting for him to say more. To elaborate or make some sort of a point, but Eilan didn’t want to ruin anything by saying even one word more. He wanted to remember Cullen’s warm, genuine smile when he’d agreed that they were friends. Even if turned out that was all they could be, it would be enough. Maybe. No, probably not.

*

With a great deal of reluctance, the Commander had allowed them a few more hours to travel. He didn’t mention the matter to anyone else as far as Eilan could tell. He continued scouting although towards the middle of the day, he slowed down. Tired from walking and sick of not being able to remember enough of what had happened at the Conclave.

A large grey hand gave him what looked like a scone. “Here.”

“I… Thank you, Bull.”

“If you’re gonna to keep thinking, you ought to keep eating. Find anything yet?”

Eilan took a bite of the scone. Then shook his head.

“That's too bad. So. There’s a serious and not-so serious thing I’d like to talk to you about. Pick one.”

“All right," Eilan said after he'd finished eating and went back to walking. "The serious thing first.”

“You can tell me to fuck off if you want, but… Look, I saw you before you went off with Solas. You seemed… Well, not exactly great. Seemed like Mother Giselle was badgering you.”

“She said some helpful things.” _And some very unhelpful things_. “I’m just not a very religious person.”

“Right. Then you went off with Solas. He helped?”

Eilan nodded. “I don’t…” He looked around before sighing heavily. “I can’t get used to being considered the Herald of Andraste. And what that might mean.”

The Iron Bull chuckled. “Well, to me? All it would mean was that this Andraste’s a really smart lady.”

Eilan ducked his head. “But it would mean what happened to me… Was supposed to happen.”

“Which part?”

“All of it. Being Tranquil.”

“Oh.” The Qunari was silent for awhile. “Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. But, I mean, obviously what happened to you happened for a reason. All of it. Even the shitty parts, but that doesn’t mean someone up there-- It is up, right?”

Eilan laughed. “Yes.”

“It doesn’t mean that someone up there had it out for you. Figured you needed to be taken down a peg. Bad shit just… It just happens, you know? You can try to understand why but you won’t and then you’ll just go crazy. So fuck it. Life’s too short.”

“What do I do then?”

“Do?”

“Solas gave me advice and it is helpful. But it’s only a breathing exercise. I just… I feel really… I don’t know if I should say. I should be scouting.”

“Pretend for a minute that we’re just two guys. I’m just some big horned guy and you’re just some magic guy and we somehow became friends.”

“But... We are friends.”

The Iron Bull grunted, doubtlessly thinking about his already tarnished reputation. “Yeah, all right,” he said. With that matter settled, he continued: “Okay. But in this scenario, we’re really stupid friends who decided to go on an expedition into these shitty-ass mountains. It’s not great. I’m grumpy because I just gave away my last scone. You’re grumpy because of an existential crisis you decided to have. But there’s just us and there’s nothing else. No Inquisition. No arguing, bickering bureaucrats, politicians, and soldiers. No slow old people fucking up all our progress.”

Eilan smiled slightly.

“Then I stop,” the Qunari said as he did so. “I ask you what’s wrong. What do you say?”

“I would say… I feel lonely. I feel troubled. I feel like I can stand up to an archdemon or a whatever Corypheus was. But I feel like I can’t face people. I can’t face their strange expectations. I want to help them. I do. I want to make things better. But I need to believe in something. And I need more than words, Bull. I need… It’s not enough.”

The Iron Bull set a hand on his shoulder. “Then believe in those people and in yourself. Believe in the things that give you power. The things that push you forward and make you better. The rest is just shit we tell ourselves anyway.”

"That's what Solas said."

“Solas said that,” the Iron Bull stated flatly.

“A bit more eloquently, but yes. I think.”

“I’m not going to rhyme just to try and outdo an elf,” the Iron Bull grumbled, touching Eilan’s arm. “Look, you need… Shit. You need some grounding. Everyone’s busy trying to raise you up meanwhile you’re just trying to locate the ground. Does that sound about right?”

Eilan nodded, leaning into the slight touch, wishing he could have more.

The Iron Bull glanced around. “Well, well, well. I stand corrected. Old people have their uses after all,” he muttered. “Leliana’s flagging us down. Think that means we’re camping. So. Who have you been sharing a tent with?”

“Varric and Blackwall. Why?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll talk to them. Later. Right now, we’re going to stand here. Can I touch you a bit more?”

“You… If you want to.”

The Iron Bull frowned. “No. It’s if you need me to. Obviously I want to. I’m not blind and I asked. But you have to need and want me to, boss. It’s going to be light and gentle. Nothing too significant. Not yet.”

“Then I… I want you to.”

“Eventually I’ve got to get the Chargers set up.” The Qunari’s fingers brushed his cheek and then rested lightly against his neck. “They’re fucking hopeless when it comes to tents. Wanna come with?”

“All right.” Eilan sighed quietly when the Iron Bull's fingers caressed his cheek again. Eilan wanted to feel embarrassed but Bull seemed... He seemed perfectly at ease like this, gently and casually touching a mage’s skin. And he wasn’t trying to do anything more than that. “Um. What was the other thing?”

“Hm?”

“The not-so serious thing.”

“Oh. That. I tend to overheat. Just so you know.”

“Beg pardon?”

“When they found you, you were… Well, you were clinging to Cullen and babbling. And you kept worrying about if I was warm or not. So. Yeah. I usually am.”

Eilan blushed as he cleared his throat. “Oh. Um. Sorry. I don’t remember.”

“That’s fair. The healer said you were a little delirious, but that it would pass. You had everyone worried.”

“I did?”

The Iron Bull rolled his eye, cupping Eilan’s cheek. “You did.”

“Well, that’s… Not good but it’s… good? In a way. Were you worried?”

“Last time I checked I was part of everyone. But not very worried. Those guys are sort of massive and you’re really small. I figured you’d slip away somehow. Then it was just a matter of you finding us.”

“I am not really small,” Eilan said blushing when the Iron Bull patted his head, parts of his large hand cupping the mage's ear immediately after. Eilan hesitated then touched the Qunari’s hand, holding it in place. It was warm too. “Compared to you, I--”

“Relax. I’m sure parts of you are more than adequate.”

“That’s terrible.”

The Qunari grinned.

Eilan yawned. Then he smiled fondly. “You’re terrible, and somehow I’ve been left alone with you.”

“But you don’t mind?”

“I don’t.”

“Because I’m warm.”

“Because… I think it’s because you’re you.”

*

They spent the rest of the late afternoon helping the Chargers. And then some of the others from Haven who were having a difficult time either with tents or with... Well, with what had happened. Some had lost family and there were more than a few orphans in need of some comforting.

The only time the Iron Bull left Eilan's side was to speak privately and very briefly to Varric. He came back quickly. “Let’s go to my tent. For now. I told the others I noticed you were doing far too much and probably needed some rest. So your things will be there already. You’ll like my tent. It’s impressively large.”

Eilan blushed.

“And yeah I am doing that on purpose.”

“Just terrible.”

“That’s me.”

Inside the tent was fairly small cot with a ridiculous pile of blankets. Eilan's few belongings were in the corner. A large bedroll was too.

“You really should get some rest for all your scouting.”

“Eilan flushed slightly. “About that…”

“Hey. Whatever you’re working on, it’s working so... it’s good. Don’t need details. I could guess if I needed to.”

“All right.” Eilan yawned, not moving away as the Qunari stroked his hair.

“Change first. I’ll be right back.”

Once he was done and the Qunari had returned, Eilan got into the cot. He was wrapped up in more fur blankets than any one person actually needed, and the Iron Bull tucked him in with a small smile. “You good?”

“I’m good.” But when the Qunari moved away, he grabbed at him. “Can… Can you not leave? I don’t want you to leave.”

“You don’t want me to leave,” the Iron Bull repeated. “Where is it that you think I’m going?”

“I don’t know exactly.”

The Iron Bull grunted, unfolding his bedroll. “Uh huh. Well, it’s sure as shit not going to be out there. Wind’s picked up. Besides, I like where I am. I might as well stay here if it’s all the same to you.”

“I’d rather you stayed.”

“See? Problem solved.”

“Can... Can I ask you a really stupid question?”

“Sure,” the Iron Bull said, sitting down on his makeshift bed. He placed his hand within easy reach so Eilan reached out and held onto it.

Eilan smiled a little as larger fingers coiled around his. “Do Qunari… do you tell stories?”

“Uh. Me specifically? Or is this part of the bizarre cultural survey of Thedas you never stop conducting?”

Eilan smiled, closing his eyes. “You specifically.”

The Iron Bull snorted. “If I say I do, am I going to need to tell you one?”

“Only if you want to.”

“Is it a story you need or do you just want to hear someone talk?”

“Story. Talk. Both.”

“You like talking almost as much as thinking.”

“I like what you say and how you say it. I like when people talk although sometimes I wish they’d stop. But it’s not all just words anymore. There’s almost a color to it now. And there’s emotions. Do you think that will last? Because I don’t think I could go back. I don’t think I could stand it and I would rather--”

“Hey, how about no? Let’s not… Let’s not think. Let’s not worry about that right now either.”

Eilan opened his eyes slowly. “But do you think it will last? You won’t lie so…what?”

The Qunari was looking away from him, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly with his free hand. “It’s nice that you think so highly of me, but I do lie, Eilan. I lie a lot.”

“Not to me. Not so far.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to lie to you. And you haven’t asked me anything requiring it. So fine. It’ll last. It fucking doesn’t have a choice. Now shut up and I’ll tell you about the time I went giant-baiting.”

Eilan tugged the Iron Bull’s hand closer, letting the Qunari’s fingers rest against his lips. “All right.”

*

“Aches, hurts, so cold. He prayed. She prays. You don’t want him to pray. But he does. He will. And they’re praying now. Praying for you, preying on you. On their knees. And their eyes crawl over you. Eyes that never truly see. Mirrored eyes. Eyes that will never see you again. But you’re here now. You’re here. Where his eyes can see. So can his. If you let them. If you want them to.”

Eilan startled awake. He curled back up as another blanket was added to his cot.

“For fuck’s sake! What part of get out do you not understand? I want your demented, weird ass out of this tent. Now.”

“Can’t. He’s hurting. Colors and feelings bleed all over. Swarming and buzzing. I want to help.”

“He’s… Okay, you got… That part, you got right. He’s hurting. Thing is, coming in here and blurting out that sort of shit isn't gonna help.”

“You help. You should know--”

“No, no, and fuck no. Could you gimme a break and just get lost? Fucking just woke up. I cannot possibly explain to you just how much I don’t need you telling me things I got no business knowing.”

“It would help him.”

“It wouldn’t. Not even a little bit. So let’s not have a conversation. How about you go find Solas and talk crazy to someone who can do the same? Or Varric. He writes poems and stories and shit. I bet Varric would like some company.”

“I could do that. They need help.”

“There you go. Go do that.”

“And you’ll help?”

“Yeah, I’ll do that. And you can talk to him later. Maybe after breakfast.” There was a sound of a tent flap opening and then closing. “Or maybe never.”

Eilan sighed, unearthing himself from the blankets and yawning. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Bull grumbled. “Fucking dumbass kid...thing. Just wanders on in here and picks at my brain. Then digs on into yours and tells me about it? What the fuck? What is he exactly?”

“Cole? I… I haven’t been around him enough to know.” Eilan frowned slightly. “...I forgot he was here, to be honest.”

“You might want to have a talk with him.”

“Soon. After we get where we’re going.”

The Iron Bull grunted in displeasure but seemed willing to let the matter go. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.”

“Slept well?”

“Yes. I… It’s nice having someone here.”

“But you still missed Varric and Blackwall?”

Eilan laughed. “I enjoy the time I spend with them and they are very good tent mates. But you snore just as loudly so it worked out.”

“I snore?”

Eilan laughed. “It was sort of sweet, really.”

He’d sincerely appreciated the sounds. They were like a ward against the nothing that came with too much quiet. He’d liked that about Blackwall and Varric. Not only did they both get along and swap stories, but you knew that they were there even when they were sleeping.

They’d been kind to him with none of the awkwardness that he got from younger companions. Blackwall didn’t seem worried he’d melt like a snowball in the sun if he wasn’t treated like an invalid. And although Varric could be distant, he had a wickedly wonderful sense of humor and a kind heart. But Eilan thought he rather liked being with Bull a bit better.

“Uh, okay. I’m going to get breakfast,” the Iron Bull said. “You want anything?”

“I could get it. I can manage… You don’t need to worry about me.”

“I’m not worried. And sure you could manage, but you're the boss. So you’re just going to delegate for now.”

“Very well.”

*

Despite being in a tent and eating very little, the breakfast had seemed quite luxurious. Quiet too as the Iron Bull inhaled his meal and Eilan pecked at his own. It wasn’t awkward and it wasn’t silent, but there wasn’t anything to say.

After a far bit of hiking and scouting ahead, Eilan finally spotted it, far off in the distance. Mist rolled around beneath the bridge leading up to its gate. And there was a tree growing in its walls with red and gold leaves.

“Skyhold,” Solas said quietly.

It took the better part of the day to actually make it to the keep. And then several days to clear it out and make it hospitable. Eilan spent those days helping and at night he continued to get to know his companions a bit better.

The Iron Bull stayed with him and if anyone had thoughts on the matter... Well, they were sure to vocalize them. And loudly.

Eilan had listened and protested a bit. He couldn’t see the harm in being friends with a Qunari. Yes, that was all it was, thank you very much.

He was unwilling to dwell too long on greater truths about human and Qunari relations let alone mage and non-mage ones. He understood, he really did, but he couldn’t… He just couldn’t take it in. Couldn’t accept that generalities held true for others anymore than they held true for him.

“But it’s pretty much all I’ve heard about today,” Eilan admitted to the Iron Bull. “It’s not like that though. In here, I mean. The words I don’t want to remember sort of drift away like Solas said they would. And I don’t feel threatened or troubled.”

“I’d hope not. The goal here is for you to relax. If you felt stressed out or in danger, I wouldn’t be doing my fucking job.”

“Is it… Is it a job though?” Eilan asked quietly.

“That was probably a poor choice of words there,” the Iron Bull murmured, taking Eilan’s hand in his. They were still making use of the cot and the bedroll. And it was still working out just fine. “No, it’s not a job. I mean, yes it is, but not in the way you think. It's not an official one and it's only for you.”

“Is it a job like how you said you visited the Tamassrans for sex? Like seeing a healer for wounds?”

The Iron Bull shook his head, looking thoughtful. “Not exactly. This is not a calculated, clinical thing. That would only serve to hurt you. But jobs are… Where I’m from, you are your job. So if you are my job then it’s not a bad thing. It’s good.”

Eilan breathed out a small sigh of relief.

“This isn’t me being an arrogant prick here, I swear, but I get you. What you need. Like anyone else, you’re not going to make it through all of this if you don’t get your needs met. I want to be the one who does that. For now if not longer.”

“For now?”

“You might want someone else later on. Or your needs might change.”

“I want to change. In some ways,” Eilan admitted. “I want to be… stronger.”

“You’re already pretty strong.”

“Until the evening rolls around.”

“You think this makes you weak?”

“Don’t you?”

“No. There is more than one type of strength. I kind of like the ways you’re strong and all the ways you’re not. And I want to keep doing this. With you.”

“Even if it’s… Fairly tame?”

The Qunari shrugged, reaching his hand up to cup Eilan’s cheek. “This is simply what works. As long as it works, that’s all that matters. _Asit tal-eb_. The way things are meant to be.”

Eilan nodded.

“What we have right now is pretty simple, I’ll admit that. It’s nice. It’s easy. So if you want it to be me who looks after you whenever you get a few seconds to breathe, then you have me. If someone else is better suited and you’d prefer them, then I’ll stop.”

“All right.”

“There’s pretty much only two rules here. One is that in here, you don’t have to be in charge. I’ve got you, okay? I’ve got you and you’re safe. If there are times when you need to be in charge or what I’m doing isn’t working, you have to say so.”

“Okay.”

“Now. If you find it really hard to articulate your needs for some reason that I can’t imagine because you talk so much… Just say _katoh_. And we stop. We stop and it gets sorted.”

“ _Katoh_ ,” Eilan repeated with a smile. “What’s the second rule?”

“Two is that you have to know your limits and mine. And I have to know your limits and my own. This is what works. So this right here is what we’re doing.”

“Mine seem obvious. What are your limits?”

“You don’t keep things from me and you don’t do things without me. You don’t decide to do things for my sake or in an effort to feel normal.” The Iron Bull shook his head. “It ain’t happening. You’re never going to be normal anymore than I am going to be normal. And that’s a good thing.”

“Thank you.”

“Also I don’t put up with much. From you? Yes. But if people give you a hard time about what you need, try to take things you’re not comfortable giving… I’ll end them.”

“That seems… harsh but ideal?”

The Iron Bull smiled. “We all have limits. You can flail and fight against it if you want, but limits teach us important things. They make it so that we know all that we need to be all that we are. Know what you need and honor that. Understand and trust that I respect that. Know that this is enough.”

Eilan nodded as he took this in. All of that made so much sense. He hoped this wasn’t all part of following the Qun, but if it was… It was interesting to consider. There was a great deal to learn from the Qunari. Some of the Qun, all of it when it came to mages, was utterly awful... And yet the same could be said for the beliefs of any other race.

“Sex isn’t always more. Sex is…” The Iron Bull shrugged. “Sex is sometimes just a thing to do. Like with the Tamassrans. It’s just a thing you end up doing. And it’s a pretty great thing, don’t get me wrong. It’s pretty awesome. I’m a big fan of sex. But if there’s no shame in sex, then there can be no shame in not having it either.”

Eilan nodded, remembering how the Qunari had explained some of this back in Haven. That his people didn’t really do marriage and that they didn’t really sleep with friends. But if that was the case... “I’m sure there’s others who would… If I couldn’t… Because I don’t… I mean, you said yourself it’ll take a lot of time for me…”

He really didn’t feel he knew the Qunari well enough for sex. Or himself for that matter. Even if sex wasn’t more or better and this was enough. He knew he’d want it at some point, felt that he would, but now was hardly the time. They were only just now friends.

The Iron Bull shook his head. “Too complicated. I don’t do complicated. If you need me, I’m not looking elsewhere. Not until we’re done.”

“This is enough then?”

“This is enough. If and when it isn’t, we’ll figure out what is.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eatly on, I realized that the Iron Bull was sort of ideal in some ways for Eilan even if I already figured Eilan and Cullen were a sure thing. Granted, both LIs are problematic for a mage that was once Tranquil (Cullen more so than Bull, to be honest), but that's how it goes.
> 
> He is definitely ending up with both of them and separately so far. But  
> this section here is where I realized things probably wouldn't stand a chance in hell of working as well as I wanted unless Bull was involved. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did when I was writing it!


	11. Chapter 11

*

One afternoon, as Eilan exited the keep, he noticed the four leaders talking. He hadn’t seen much of them, focused on trying to keep Cole from doing himself or anyone else a mischief. And trying to get to know Dorian, Vivienne, and Blackwall a bit better. 

He’d also been eager to help with construction on the stables. As a small child, he’d enjoyed riding, and the idea of having mounts of his own was an exciting one... Although he did expect some tasteless jokes to be made by someone at some point if he admitted as much.

Cassandra noticed him first, and waved him over. The others moved away. 

It reminded him of the Circle. Included and excluded as it suited the other mages. A pathetic doormat to ignore or a useful puppy for fetching things. But it was not like that. Cassandra, Cullen, Josephine, and Leliana were not like that. And he wasn’t going to be like that ever again.

So he walked over to her, nodding to the others as they moved away.

“They arrive daily from every settlement in the region,” she began, gesturing to tents and campfires. To soldiers. To an older woman and younger man hugging. “Skyhold is becoming a pilgrimage.”

She walked to the stone steps and he followed.

“If word has reached these people, it will have reached the Elder One. We have the walls and numbers to put up a fight here. But this threat is far beyond the war we anticipated."

"And then some," Eilan couldn't help but add.

She nodded, smiling wryly. "But we now know what allowed you to stand against Corypheus, what drew him to you."

"The anchor. He came for this," Eilan said quietly. "We know that. And now that it's useless, he would see me dead."

"The anchor has power," Cassandra agreed, "but it is not while you're still standing here."

"What do you mean?"

"Your decisions let us heal the sky. Your determination brought us out of Haven. You are that creature's rival because of what you did. And we know it. All of us."

Overwhelmed by a sudden burst of relief, he stopped dead in his tracks. For days, Eilan had been uncertain of how to ask what she thought or any of the others thought. He didn't begrudge them their beliefs nor did he want to be overly glorified for the role he played. And everything that she'd said was the way she honestly felt. What presumably all four of them felt. About him.

"We're not at our destination," Cassandra said, "and I am far from finished."

"Sorry just... thank you."

She waved it off and continued forward. Leliana was standing near another set of stairs, a sword laid out flat in her hands.

"The Inquisition requires a leader: the one who has already been leading it."

Eilan walked to Leliana and she held the sword out to him. He blinked at her. And then down at the sword. Then down where people were milling about, chattering excitedly and watching him. So many people and all of them here because of the Inquisition. Because of him. It seemed surreal. He didn't feel as nervous as he had in the Frostback Mountains, just a little overwhelmed by what was suddenly becoming a reality.

His eyes were drawn towards Cullen and then to Josephine. Josephine was smiling. Cullen wasn't but he didn't seem angry or unhappy so much as hopeful.

"You," Cassandra said.

Eilan blinked owlishly at her. "You would let a mage head up the Inquisition?" He felt that he needed to ask, needed to know.

"Not a mage. You."

"Me. Who happens to be a mage,” he told her, trying for a light tone but not quite managing it. He was a mage. He wanted to always be one. 

"I will not pretend no one will object. But times are changing. Perhaps this is what the Maker intended." She gestured him back towards Leliana and the sword. "There would be no Inquisition without you. How it will serve, how you will lead: that must be yours to decide."

And there it was. Cassandra had given him exactly what he'd needed - a way to make his peace with some of what had happened to him. This was the sort of leader he could be. He could change the way mages were viewed. He could allow all that he'd been made to endure to reshape the dated ideologies of so much of Thedas as his actions and decisions continued to prove so many people wrong. Above all else, he could defeat Corypheus and save lives.

Slowly, Eilan took the sword, raising it up and examining the bronze dragon on its hilt.

“People need to see a mage standing up for what's right,” he said, looking out over the crowd. “They need to see what a mage can truly do. So I will defeat Corypheus standing with them not over them.”

“Where ever you lead us,” Cassandra said. "Have our people been told?” she called out to the others below.

“They have,” Josephine said, “and soon the world.”

“Commander, will they follow?”

“Inquisition! Will you follow? Will you fight? Will we triumph?” Cullen asked and the people below roared their approval. “Your leader. Your Herald. Your Inquisitor.” He brandished his own sword as the roars continued.

Eilan smiled shyly, holding his own aloft. He took in everyone’s reactions, relieved by Josephine’s whoop of excitement and Cullen’s more subdued pleasure. And he felt more confident than he had earlier. 

*

Eilan entered the main hall, walking over and past all of the debris. He was followed by Cullen, Leliana, and Josephine. At the end of the great room were three large stained glass windows, below them a red throne.

“So this is where it begins,” Cullen mused.

"It began in the courtyard,” Leliana said. “This is where we turn that promise into action.”

“But what do we do?” Josephine asked. “We know nothing about this Corypheus. Except that he wanted your mark.”

Eilan looked down at his glowing hand. “Corypheus said he wanted to enter the Black City. That this would make him a god.”

“He is willing to tear this world apart to reach the next,” Leliana said. “It won’t matter if he’s wrong.”

“What if he’s not wrong?” Cullen asked. “If he finds some other way into the Fade?”

“Then he gains the power he seeks. Or unleashes catastrophe on us all.”

“His dragon was an archdemon," Eilan pointed out. "What would that mean for us all?”

“It could mean the beginning of another Blight,” Leliana said, eyes darkening. She knew what a Blight would do just as well if not better than all of them.

“We’ve seen no darkspawn other than Corypheus himself. Perhaps it’s not an archdemon at all. But something... different?"

"Whatever it is, it's dangerous," Cullen said, looking over at her. "Commanding such a creature gives Corypheus an advantage we cannot ignore."

"Not that we could ignore a regular dragon either," Eilan put in.

Cullen chuckled, a little startled by the interruption. "No. It would be awfully foolish to try.”

Eilan smiled before sighing. “Well, someone out there must know something about Corypheus. Especially if any of his claims are true. He works for his own end, but he said he served the Old Gods.”

“Unless they saw him on the field, most will not believe he exists,” Cullen said, shaking his head.

“Then most are absolute…” Eilan trailed off and sighed. "Never mind."

“I wouldn’t disagree, Inquisitor.”

“We do have one advantage,” Leliana said with a small if strained smile. “We know what Corypheus intends to do next.” She looked to Eilan. “In that strange future you experienced, the Empress Celine had been assassinated.”

"Imagine the chaos her death would cause," Josephine said with a frown. "His army..."

"An army he'll bolster with a massive force of demons or so the future tells us.”

" _A_ future," Eilan said quietly. "Not _the_ future, Cullen. Like you've said before... I won't allow it."

Cullen nodded.

"Corypheus could conquer the entire South of Thedas, god or no god," Josephine added.

Leliana sighed, looking down and a bit discouraged. "I would feel better if we knew more about what we were dealing with."

"I know someone who could help with that," Varric called out from behind them. He chuckled briefly when they all turned. It was guilty sort of sound. "Everyone acting all inspirational jogged my memory so I-- I sent a message. To an old friend. She's crossed paths with Corypheus before, and may know more about what he's doing. She can help and--" Varric gave Eilan a meaningful look when the mage laughed excitedly. "Really, Inquisitor?"

Eilan colored slightly as the others glanced in his direction, but he couldn't help it. Varric had to have been talking about Hawke. Who else could it be? So either he was the only one who had figured it out, or everyone else was going to pretend they didn’t care if the Champion of Kirkwall paid them a visit. 

Eilan coughed a bit and cleared his throat. "Er. Sorry. Sorry, everyone. I was thinking about dragons and um… I think I swallowed some dust and… and everything.” 

Josephine giggled, which only made him blush all the more.

Cullen raised an eyebrow and gave the Inquisitor a look that suggested he ought to try a different explanation. One that was less ridiculous. 

“Um,” Eilan continued, “Right. That sounds very helpful, Varric. Very good of you. I'm always looking for new allies so... Introduce me? Soon? Please?"

Varric rolled his eyes before everyone looked back at him. "Right. But parading around might cause a fuss." He moved closer. "It's better for you to meet privately once she gets here. That will take awhile so... Try to behave yourself.”

“I’ll behave,” Eilan loudly declared before looking apologetic. “I’ll behave. I promise.”

“I do have more than one old friend, you know.”

“Well, of course you do.”

“We stand ready to move on both these concerns,” Josephine said. “I wonder which our Inquisitor is the most excited about?”

“It’s a mystery,” Leliana cheerfully agreed.

Varric sighed, clearly giving up on keeping his ‘old friend’ a secret. “Well, Hawke won’t mind the attention. She never does.”

“It’s your own fault,” Cullen pointed out. “You told Eilan every single Hawke story you could think of and then some.” 

“I’m not saying it isn’t my fault.”

“Cassandra’s going to kill you,” Leliana cautioned.

“Yeah. I know.”

*

“Again.” 

Eilan threw up a barrier as Krem attempted to bash him with a shield.

“And again.”

Another barrier, another shield bash.

“Again and-- Krem, for fuck’s sake. Stop.”

Krem panted slightly and glanced up. “What, chief?”

“Are you moving that slow on purpose? I told you to give it all you’ve got.”

“And here I thought I was.”

“And here I thought my instructions were clear,” the Iron Bull said, counting them off on his fingers. “Help the Inquisitor practice defending himself, come at him with all you’ve got, and if he so much as gets a scratch on him I’ll kill you. ...Why is this so hard?”

Krem rolled his eyes before smirking at Eilan. "He's always like this, your worship. In case you're wondering."

“Should I buy you a pint when this is done?” Eilan asked shyly. 

The Tevinter grinned. “If you don’t mind… Wait. Have you ever had a pint?”

“It’s what people say, isn’t it? When someone’s having a difficult time?”

Krem laughed. “It is but I doubt you want to share your first pint with me. The chief would--”

“The chief will do a lot worse if you finish that sentence.”

From behind them, someone else cleared their throat. 

“My dear, why is it that even after I offer you my services and my expertise,” Vivenne drawled, “I find you here dueling with these barbarians instead? Or are you fending them off? He isn’t fending you off, is he? I shall be quite cross if that should prove to be the case.”

“No, ma’am,” the Iron Bull managed. 

“They’re helping me practice,” Eilan said moving between Vivienne and the others.

“While learning your strengths and weaknesses at the same time. Or do you imagine they do this out of the kindness of their own hearts?”

The Iron Bull rolled his eye. “Right. Well. Shit, Krem. There goes our cunning plan to undermine all of the Inquisitor's hard work.”

Vivienne turned on him. “Do not even jest, you boorish lout. Have you no respect whatsoever?”

The Iron Bull almost flinched. He blinked instead, standing up a bit straighter. “I do. Yes, ma’am. Uh. Sorry, ma’am?”

Vivienne sniffed distastefully. “Well, Trevelyan? Do you think it wise to continue?”

“Is it really that bad?" Eilan asked. "I thought it would be nice to practice.”

“In public? With these people? They’re the hired help, my dear.”

“Vivienne, don’t call them that. They are not… Well, they are hired, and they are helping but…” Eilan glanced helplessly up at the Iron Bull. 

The Qunari shrugged. He seemed sympathetic and uncertain, but not very offended.

“I can help," Vivienne continued, "Dorian can help. Your elf apostate can help. You shouldn’t be training with these two any more than you should a Templar. They don’t know what you’re about and you’re still learning.”

“Oh good, you found him,” Dorian called out as he strolled over. “I told you he’d be over here. The boy can’t stay away from that thuggish brute. Or is it brutish thug. I never can decide when it comes to Qunari.”

“Should we say anything?” Krem asked warily. Despite how often Bull corrected the poor man's battle tactics, the Tevinter was far from a fool. No doubt he was hoping to beat a hasty retreat as soon as possible.

The Iron Bull snorted, considering the mages. “No point. Let's go.”

“No. Vivienne and Dorian, you… You can’t just…” Eilan blinked, looking up as the Iron Bull gently patted his head. “Bull…”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you later.”

“Right.”

Krem chuckled as he walked away before yelping. The Iron Bull had slapped him upside the back of the head once he’d caught up.

Dorian shook his head as the mercenaries left. “You really can’t ask them for help with magic. It’s utterly gauche.”

“It was help with magical defense. And you both were really rude.”

Vivienne gave him a look. It felt oddly pitying and it was all Eilan could not to cringe. He could handle this, he knew he could and there was nothing to worry about. This was her way. It wasn't personal, and Dorian was here, but he wished that Bull had stayed. 

“What?” he asked helplessly as she continued to stare at him.

“You seem to have a type.”

“Don’t, Vivienne. You’ll just confuse him.” Dorian smiled gently. “Chin up, Trevelyan. It’s all right. You can be friends with whomever you like. You just ought to train with other mages. You’re trying to learn more spells not less.”

Eilan sighed. “I just think it would be best if we all could get along.”

“You would be the only one,” Vivienne assured him.

"That’s because you're far too sweet," Dorian explained. "Now look, Eilan. I want to work on the spells you already know. To see about teaching you a new one. Then I want to take a look at your staff." 

Vivenne's lips curved up into a smirk. "Do you indeed?"

Dorian rolled his eyes. "Because I think it’s time for an upgrade.”

*

Eilan went along with the lesson for a time. After learning a new Inferno spell, he sat down. As other two mages talked around him, and he got a little lost in his own thoughts, staring down at the staff in his hands. It was the one that they’d found in Redcliffe Castle. The one that he’d given to Dorian. Dorian had initially accepted it and Eilan was confused to be given it back again. 

“I know what you’re going to say," Dorian said, glancing down. "I can guess what you're thinking too, but you shouldn’t have given it to me.”

“Is something wrong with it? I thought it was much better staff than the one you had.”

“It’s an exceptional staff, of course. I took it for that reason. But it was… Look, Trevelyan, it was a very kind thing to do. Exceptionally generous, and at the time I was rather pleased. But you cannot keep giving the best of what we find to others, understand?”

“I can’t always--” 

“When it comes to weapons usable and robes wearable by mages then,” Vivenne suggested, looking bored. “Dorian is right. You give far too much away. You can’t keep doing that.”

“I didn’t mind giving it to you. Either one of you.”

“Which only shows the remarkable difference between you and me," Dorian said with a sigh. "You cannot help but give everything away to another person. I’m a selfish enough git that I’ll take whatever it is and not think about it for at least a week. I feel terrible about it now though. I suppose that's something.”

“I imagine you have very little experience with it, but some degree of selfishness is allowed,” Vivienne pointed out. “As mages, we have to conduct ourselves with more decorum than the rest. You manage that a majority of the time. We have to be more generous, willing to part with what we're given. You've rather mastered that. So you should allow yourself the occasional small luxury or indulgence. It could prove to be quite healthy for you."

"I don't entirely agree," Dorian said, "In your case, you ought to let loose and do whatever you please. All the same, Vivienne is right. It could do you a world of good to do a few things solely for your own sake." 

Eilan nodded. He looked back down at the staff, still conflicted. It was far better than his old wooden one but he’d found that old one with Cassandra and Solas. The old gnarled staff meant something. He was loathe to part with it. And while the new staff was nicer, he couldn’t help feeling uneasy with Vivienne and Dorian talking over him. They had moved on and were, once again, addressing his fashion sense or lack thereof. 

Dorian trailed off, frowning. He sat down across from Eilan, eyeing him sharply. “Now what’s wrong?”

“I… Why are… Are you helping me because... Is it that you feel sorry for me?”

Vivienne arched a brow. “Sorry for you, my dear?”

“You know that I was Tranquil, but I'm not now. You keep giving me things, but you don’t need to. I have a staff already. I didn’t mind you keeping this one, Dorian. I love the robes you’ve given me, Vivienne, but you don’t have to do that. I want to learn but there are so many people here who have something they can teach me, and I can look after myself.”

Vivienne sighed. “You can handle this, Pavus.” She patted Eilan’s shoulder in a ‘there, there’ sort of way, then she left them.

“Isn’t she helpful?” Dorian muttered darkly. “Tell me,” he added, sitting down across from Eilan. “When was the last time someone gave you anything?”

“People give me things every day.”

“I’m not talking about errands to run. Not supplies to use. Not gifts with obvious strings and conditions attached to them. I mean an honest-to-goodness present. Something you got because someone felt you ought to have it. Maybe before the Inquisition?”

“When I was seven, my mother got me a dappled grey pony. My father would send me tomes when I was at the Circle. He stopped once I was... Anyway, I suppose that was the last of the presents I received.”

“ _Kaffas_.”

“Pardon?”

“I might have been wrong,” Dorian unhappily clarified. “Yes, yes. A novel experience for me, but the fact is… Now I only want to look after you more. Also a novel experience but… A pony.” He shook his head sadly. “I bet you didn’t even get to ride it.”

“No, I did… For a time and…” Eilan cleared his throat. “That was a very long time ago, Dorian. A lot has changed since then.”

“Not helping.”

“I really can look after myself. I’m quite capable of it.”

Dorian considered him, clearly trying to come up with a new approach to the situation. “Of course you are. Here’s the thing… Did you know we are related?”

“...we are?”

Dorian chuckled. “Oh, not first cousins or anything. Could you imagine? You are a Trevelyan, however, and somewhere in the dank nethers of my family tree, there was also a Trevelyan. Perhaps he was even the one who ventured to Ostwick to establish the branch. We’re talking long ago, of course.”

“You just happen to know this?”

Dorian smirked. “Bloodlines are a serious business in Tevinter. You’re taught lessons and tested… by strict nannies. I heard your family mentioned and I had to go through all the old mnemonics. But yes--there it is. It explains how we look so much alike.”

Eilan laughed at that. “You really do learn something new every day.”

“Nice, isn’t it? Like being at a quality library only you’re not the one stocking the shelves. So you see... Us black sheep ought to stick together. It also should prove that I am allowed to give you things. Quality items too not just battered old hand-me-downs or nonsense left in a sack somewhere.”

“Oh. So… Dorian?”

“Yes?”

“I understand that we’re not exactly cousins, and that’s probably for the best... But we can at least be friends, right?” 

Dorian seemed to freeze up. Like a deer in a glade, keenly and suddenly aware of an archer. “I… suppose. All right. We can be friends." He made a face and scrunched up his nose. "We’re going to… hug now, aren’t we?”

“I think we have to.”

“Very well.” The Tevinter mage opened his arms and accepted his fate with a sigh. “Come here then.”

Eilan just returned the hug, relaxing into it as Dorian put his arms around him. It was just nice to be held, really.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Dorian cautioned. “Does this mean I can give you things?”

“Within reason.”

“Oh, I won’t be spending any of my own money. I’m flat broke. I’ll use the Inquisition’s money on you if it comes to that.”

Eilan laughed.

“Now enough. Hugging, that is. Seeing as I’ve gone and upset you several times in a row, I’ll admit it. We were rather rude. But I’m only admitting it to you. I don’t apologize to Qunari.”

“Maybe you could be… less…”

“I cannot help but be a little concerned about that man’s intentions. The Iron Bull might seem nice but his people are decidedly not. I won’t bore you with a lecture on the Saarebas, not yet, but his people’s view of mages is rather unforgiving to put it mildly. Barbaric to be more accurate.”

“I know, but Bull helps.”

“Helps?”

“We haven’t done anything… That is, not yet. He just stays and we talk and he… He helps. He’s loud, but he’s gentle. He doesn’t feel sorry for me. He doesn’t ask for anything. And he doesn’t need me to be anything but what I am. And I think I really like him.”

“What about Cullen?”

Eilan blinked. 

“You rather like him too, or had you forgotten?”

“I…” Eilan looked down. 

Cullen. He had, of course, thought about that, but he had no idea what to do. In truth, he’d been avoiding the Commander, unsure how to handle a conversation because the fact remained that Eilan needed someone like Bull. Someone who was going to be able to go with him on every quest. Someone who seemed to know just what to say and when to say it. 

Yet, all the same, Eilan couldn’t be around Cullen without wanting to be as close to him as humanly possible. Without thinking about how warm the former templar’s hands were. How sweet Cullen could be at times, particularly when they were alone. Eilan thought it best to speak to Bull, admit what was painfully obvious, and try to proceed from there. He anticipated that the conversation would be both easy and difficult. And if he had to choose, he couldn’t give up what he had. 

“Don’t,” Dorian insisted, patting Eilan’s hand. “Don’t get upset. I’d hardly judge you or tell anyone. Men and other men... It happens, doesn’t it? And why shouldn’t you like both of them?”

Eilan nodded, willing himself calm. “I’m sorry. It’s just…”

Dorian sighed, reluctantly pulling him into another hug. “Ah, Inquisitor. It’s all right. If your affections are one thing you can be both overly generous and remarkably selfish about then… Be selfish, would you?”

*


	12. Chapter 12

*

As tempting as it was to stake out the battlements, there were other important tasks to do at Skyhold and elsewhere. Initially it had seemed prudent to wait for Hawke’s arrival, but there were matters to settle both in Ferelden and Orlais. 

As he waited for scouting reports from a variety of locations, Eilan continued to work on resolving the operations proposed to him by his advisors.

“Not this one,” Josephine suggested, moving a rather thick stack of papers from the pile of requests. 

“What’s it about?”

“Let us leave that for another time. Are you well, Inquisitor?” she asked. They hadn’t spent a great deal of time together, but he enjoyed working with her. “Have you seen your quarters? If not, you must look today.”

Eilan sat down in a nearby chair. “I'm fine," he assured her. "My quarters?”

“Yes, Inquisitor. You will have rooms here in the castle proper. They were to be finished as of this afternoon.”

“Surely there were other priorities.”

“You would be surprised how often it is that appearances matter most. You’re very modest and it is an admirable trait, but you represent us all now. Take a look. When you have a chance.”

He sighed heavily, looking down. “How am I going to manage Halamshiral if I can barely stand to have my own luxurious bedroom?”

“We are a long way off from that point, but it is good of you to ask that question before I could ask you the same. I understand that this will seem very tedious, but I’m afraid you will need to learn a bit about Orlesian etiquette.”

“They have that?”

Josephine chuckled. “No. And that is my point. The Great Game will eat you alive without preparation.” She colored slightly, clearing her throat. “That is… The Game is quite dangerous for those who cannot play. So you will need to learn to play it at least in part. Dancing, witty dialogue, manipulations, all of it.” 

Eilan made a face.

“Ah, you will need to learn to dance as well as manipulate,” Josephine surmised. “There must be something else we can work with. What sort of things do you like? Beyond the obvious enjoyment you seem to find in championing the cause of justice and sealing rifts?”

“So... Hobbies or activities?”

She nodded, quill poised to take notes.

Eilan shrugged. “I liked… I’d like to play music again. I liked riding. I could take that up again. And I like, um… I like herbs and other plants? Alchemy?”

“Maker,” she muttered. “I’ve got my work cut out for me, but you are not to worry. Those are very lovely ways to spend one’s time, I am sure.”

“Just not in Orlais.”

“Just not in Orlais. It is a shame you were not fond of fine wines or fancy cheeses. Or collected hunting trophies. Have you ever done much in the way of hunting?”

“I could start?” Eilan offered uncertainly. “That would help?”

“It would, but surely you can memorize poetry and clever anecdotes. That will be a start. I am sure I can do something with your musical talent. What instrument did you play?”

“The piano. Primarily.”

“All right. As for the rest... Horsemanship, even dressage, isn’t something you can truly flaunt at a dinner party. Too much talk of plants… Well, it would not prove wise should there be a successful assassination attempt.”

“Of Empress Celene? I thought we were trying to prevent that.”

Josephine chuckled. “Hardly. Everyone there will have enemies. Everyone there will be your enemy. At least to start with. Every party in the Winter Palace is one that is absolutely --and often quite literally-- to die for.”

Eilan sighed heavily. “When does Hawke get here again?”

Josephine smiled. “Soon, one hopes.”

They spoke of other matters that were less serious before Eilan took his leave. He wanted to speak to Cassandra before he saw his rooms. 

*

Cassandra, for her part, seemed to have finally figured out it was Hawke who was heading for Skyhold. When Eilan found her, she was well on her way to wringing Varric’s neck. Or throwing him off the side of a railing.

If Eilan hadn’t been so worried, he would have froze there on the wooden stairs leading up to where they were, terrified into inaction. Cassandra was quite a force to be reckoned with. 

“Enough!” he demanded, keeping his shaking hands behind his back.

Cassandra glared. “You’re taking his side?”

“Don’t yell at him,” Varric growled out. 

“I’m not taking a side," Eilan firmly insisted, "and… I’m all right, Varric.”

Cassandra growled under her breath. “We needed someone to lead this Inquisition. First, Leliana and I searched for the Hero of Ferelden, but she had vanished. Then we looked for Hawke, but she was gone too. We thought it all connected but no. It was just you. You kept her from us."

"The Inquisition _has_ a leader."

"Hawke would have been at the Conclave! If anyone could have saved Most Holy..."

But if even Cassandra hadn't been able to save the Divine, Eilan wasn’t sure how Hawke could have. Then again, he didn't know much about Hawke, and he wasn't sure saying as much would make the Seeker feel better. Or if she’d be willing to believe him. At the moment she was just looking for something or someone to blame for the worst event in her life. He understood how she felt, but she didn’t need to lash out at Varric… Then again, maybe need had nothing to do with it. Anger often struck at inopportune moments. 

"I was protecting my friend!" Varric insisted.

"Varric is not responsible for what happened at the Conclave," Eilan pointed out.

“Varric is a liar, Inquisitor. A snake. Even after the Conclave, when we needed Hawke most, he kept her a secret from us.”

After the Conclave. When Eilan had come out of the Fade, an absolute mess. He kept himself from looking a little stricken, but the words hurt. She’d wanted to find someone better, of course she had. All that had changed, and of course it had, but he hadn’t meant to be less than what she’d expected. Only a fraction of what she’d been hoping for.

Varric shook his head. “She’s with us now. We’re on the same side.”

“We all know who’s side you’re on, Varric. It’ll never be the Inquisition’s.”

“Attacking Varric won’t help us now, Cassandra,” Eilan said. 

“Ha! Exactly!”

“And… I suspect there aren’t any but… no more secrets, Varric. It won’t help either. We really have to work together, you know.”

Varric sighed. “I understand.”

Cassandra moved to the opposite railing in the small alcove. “I must not think of what could have been. Go, Varric. Just... Go.”

Varric headed for the stairs and then he stopped. “You know what I think? If Hawke had been at that temple, she’d be dead too. And after the Conclave, I was already watching one hero lose his mind in the cell next to mine. Did you honestly think I would give you another one to break in? Not me. Not Hawke. You people have done enough to her.”

The dwarf left before Eilan could so much as say a word to him. Eilan turned instead to Cassandra, moving closer to her, hoping she would be willing to talk rather than hit. 

“I...believed him,” she said, sounding sorrowful but calmer. "He spun his story for me, and I swallowed. If I'd just explained what was at stake... If I'd just made him understand... But I didn't. I didn't explain why we needed Hawke. And you... You didn't receive the care you needed. Not right away."

"It doesn't sound like there was much that anyone could have done for me. Beyond what you did."

"The others did," she pointed out, sitting down on a wooden chair. "The others. Not me. I did not give you anything close to comfort. I can't change that either."

"You don't have to," Eilan told her, as he sat on a bench across from her. "You’ve helped me time and time again now. You make every battle I face infinitely easier. You are bluntly honest. I never have to wonder what you’re thinking because I know you’ll tell me. And you supported my decision in Redcliffe. Even when you didn’t completely agree with it, you understood it. And what you said to me the day I became Inquisitor... That was exactly what I needed to hear."

"Was it?" she asked quietly.

"Every single word you said to me helped. Saved me from… From questioning everything I was doing, and all that I was about.”

“You mean that,” she murmured. “I am glad." She sighed and added: "Honestly, Hawke might not even have agreed to become Inquisitor. She supported the Mage Rebellion, after all. She wouldn't have trusted me for a second. But this isn't about Hawke, or even Varric. Not truly.”

"I know," Eilan said quietly. "You blame yourself. You keep hoping for someone else to blame but you know you'll just go back to blaming yourself. It's not your fault, Cassandra. It wasn’t your fault then, and it isn’t your fault now. Not when we know exactly who is to blame."

“You mean that too.”

“I mean that too,” Eilan agreed, smiling.

She smiled back. “Whatever I have said to Varric… I want you to know, I have no regrets. Maybe if we'd found Hawke or the Hero of Ferelden, the Maker wouldn’t have needed to send you. And no, you were not what I pictured. Not what I sought out. Not at all what I wanted. But if I’ve learned anything, it’s that I know less than nothing.”

Eilan watched her go, hoping that she could stop punishing herself in time. But he remembered what Varric had told him back in Redcliffe. This was the Chantry in her. Where she was going, while it seemed unnecessary, was not a place that Eilan could willingly follow her. She needed to work it out of her system the way that warriors seemed to prefer. 

“Cassandra’s calmed down now,” Eilan said once he found Varric in the great hall. 

“Define ‘calmed down’ for me in terms of who or what she’s punching right now.” 

“If I had to hazard a guess, I would imagine either the training dummies, the battlements, or Iron Bull.”

Varric sighed. “If I could have gotten you out of there, I would have. Handing over Hawke wasn’t going to get you off the hook. Not with that thing on your hand. So at first I kept hoping… That none of it was real. That it was just some bullshit from the Fade. That it would all just disappear. But there was no ignoring you. You were real. So if I couldn’t get you out, I figured I’d give Hawke to you. Not to them. Only to you. I don’t regret that. Even if I should, I don’t.” 

“Thank you. For all you did.”

“It was the least I could do. I know that. Just like I know I need to do better. And I will.”

*

Eilan’s living quarters made him nervous. He was pleased by the view, but the room was so big and so isolated and so… He sighed, looking around.

“I am awfully jealous,” Dorian said, gingerly opening up the windows. “All the same, your quarters are hardly up to snuff. They could use some work. Then again, you Southerners aren’t a very picky lot. I've heard that Cullen’s tower has a giant hole in the roof, and that Blackwall is sleeping in a barn.” 

“The stables,” Eilan corrected. “Never mind, it's the same thing, really. I should speak to him. Just as I ought to look into Cullen’s sleeping arrangements." He colored slightly as he realized how that might sound. 

“You could always share. Get some giant bunk bed and shack up with both of them. You have enough room.”

“No thanks. But we could trade. You could have this.” 

“So I’d live here and the Inquisitor would use what? A broom closet?” Dorian shook his head. “Even I am not that selfish. Nor am I that foolish. I’m already the evil Tevinter Magister in everyone’s minds so I don’t need your help.” 

“But I would give it to you. I could explain.”

“We’ve already discussed how you should stop and desist with that. Besides which, if you think anyone would let you give this room away, you are gravely mistaken. And I, for one, could do with less lectures not more.”

“If we switched, that would mean I could live in the library.”

“For the last time, Eilan, I am _not_ living in the library. I simply... enjoy spending time there now that the dust has been cleared and the spiders are gone. Yes, I do occasionally fall asleep there, but in my defense the books you have here are terrible.”

“Normal-sized spiders?”

“Hm?”

“The spiders that were in the library…”

“Any sort of spider is not a spider I wish to have anything to do with.” There was a pause and Dorian sighed. “Of course they were normal-sized.”

“Hopefully they won’t come back,” Eilan suggested with a small smile.

Dorian glared balefully. “I was about to offer up suggestions as to how we might improve your quarters. Now that I've been subjected to such abuse, I'm not sure I ought to bother.”

“Sorry.”

“Vaguely,” Dorian observed. “Fortunately for you, dear boy, I can find it in me to be magnanimous. I’m willing to overlook your terrible sense of humor.”

“What were you thinking of? For the room.”

“Bookshelves would be nice. I can bring you what passes for a decent selection around here. A desk, of course. Papers and maps. This little area back here can serve as a little wine cellar with wine you won’t drink. It’ll just make you seem that much more refined. Some sort of instrument that you needn’t bother with playing can go in the corner there to make you seem more cultured.”

“Maybe a piano?”

Dorian’s nose scrunched up as it usually did when he was irritated or confused by something. “I suppose. Don’t you think that would be a bit much for a show piece?”

“Not a show piece. Just… I… When I was little, I played, and at the Circle… I could sometimes. If I was good.”

“You still played?”

“I still played. Sometimes.”

“I do wish you wouldn’t tell me things like that.” 

“You do?”

“I do. Or, rather, I don’t. Not exactly, but you make it very hard on a mage from Tevinter. Some days it’s all I can do not not to burn the entire South of Thedas down to the ground and carry you off to Qarinus. You’d be so much warmer there and happier.”

“This place isn’t bad though. You admitted as much.”

“I did at that. Let’s see what else can we add… I know! This bed is barely going to manage your weight for long. You’re going to need a large bed. Particularly if your _guest_ will be staying with you.”

“Don’t, Dorian.” 

“Don’t what? Don’t so much as mention the giant, hulking Qunari who will often be in the room? I’ve told you I don’t judge you for it. At least not in terms of his being a man and you being one yourself.”

“I told you about him because you were worried but don’t...” Eilan looked down at the floor, not sure what to say.

The Tevinter mage left the windows and drew near, tilting Eilan’s chin up. “You imagine that I’m mocking you, but I’m not. Or at least not in the way you’re taking it. We’re friends, aren’t we? I’m teasing you.” 

“Teasing?”

“Giving you a difficult time because I am fond of you,” Dorian patiently explained. “I don’t mean anything by it. It’s only that if he really is sleeping on the floor... Wouldn’t it be better to get a bed you both could use?”

“But it’s not like that. Not yet.”

“ _A bed to sleep on_ ,” Dorian said enunciating each word to an absurd degree. “For sleeping purposes. Not that I particularly care if that old ox of yours remains in peak condition, but it can’t be good for him.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

“If he hasn’t mentioned it… Hm. Well, that’s good of him. One small point in his favor, I suppose. Now. Listen carefully, and understand. You told me about Bull in the strictest of confidences. While I may never, ever in this life understand why you’d seek comfort from that...man... I would never, ever use this knowledge against you. Is that clear?”

Eilan managed a nod. 

“Good. Now that that’s settled, we can find a lovely bed for you when we’re in Orlais. And a couch for Bull, if need be.”

There was a knock at the door. Mother Giselle entered. “I thought I might find you here,” she said. Not to Eilan but to Dorian.

“Whereas I thought I might avoid you altogether. Funny old world, isn’t it? Inquisitor, it occurs to me that I’m suddenly needed elsewhere. Be a good lad and miss me when I’m gone, hm?”

*

Eilan frowned as he watched Dorian stalk out of the room. 

The Revered Mother simply sighed. “Perhaps I might speak with you then, Inquisitor. Regarding the Tevinter.”

“Do I detect a note of distaste there, Mother Giselle?”

“I… Admit his presence here makes me uncomfortable, Inquisitor. But my feelings are of no importance.”

Save for the fact that Dorian couldn’t stand to be in a room with her. Eilan sighed. Why was it that no one could get along with anyone else for more than ten minutes at a time?

“I have been in contact with his family: House Pavus, out of Qarinus. Are you familiar with them?”

Dorian did not seem to care overly much for his family. The reasons why weren’t clear, but Eilan hadn’t bothered to ask. He knew how family could be. He was pointedly avoiding requests from his own at the moment. Cullen had offered to help, but he had thought it best not to. Not when he had a few notions as to what Cullen’s definition of ‘help’ doubtlessly included. 

“I’ve heard very little about them. He’s mentioned Qarinus though. Just now, in fact.”

“So you know nothing of his… situation?”

“I rather assumed if Dorian wished me to know, he would tell me.” There was a small part of him that was growing irritated, but he also was more than a little alarmed. He also could see that if he made a fuss now or seemed unwilling to listen, she wouldn’t tell him the rest. So Eilan remained calm, managing a small smile. “I suppose you’ve learned something?”

"The family sent a letter describing the estrangement from their son and pleading for my aid."

Eilan found this more than a little puzzling. Dorian seemed to want to be right where he was. His reasons were his own, and as long as he remained an asset to the Inquisition, shouldn't she have left well enough alone? If he wanted guidance, Eilan doubted Dorian would seek out her counsel, but surely that was Dorian's prerogative. 

"They've asked to arrange a meeting. Quietly, without telling him. They fear it is the only way he'll come."

Eilan couldn't help but look concerned. A meeting. Without telling Dorian. Because he wouldn't go. This didn't sound the least bit suspicious to Mother Giselle? Because to Eilan this sounded like an even more blatant trap than the one he'd walked into at Redcliffe. Eilan took a quiet but deep breath. She meant well. That was to be his new silent mantra whenever Mother Giselle was around. She meant well. 

"What sort of ‘meeting’ do they have in mind?" 

"I believe they just want to talk, to understand why Dorian felt he had to come here. Somewhere private. Away from Skyhold. But not in Tevinter."

Did the Revered Mother honestly believe that his "poor" parents had no means by which to learn anything in regards to why their son had gone South? What had they put in this letter that could convinced her that this idea would work? Eilan made himself nod, not really listening as Mother Giselle kept talking. He wondered if she thought he was an absolute simpleton, but maybe she just really did not understand. She meant well, after all.

“You make them nervous, I think. Who you are and... They don't understand why he's with the Inquisition. They want him to come home.”

“What happens if Dorian doesn’t agree?”

"Hopefully that would be the end of it. If not... Well, that's why you should be there." At least she’d thought of that possibility. 

After she explained a bit more of the plan including her own concerns that it could be a trap laid out by the Venatori, Eilan felt that he understood exactly why Dorian had fled his chambers. She seemed convinced she was right, that what she asked for was merely a small deceit serving a greater purpose. But it wasn't. 

What she was asking for was a horrendous betrayal of the trust developing between the two men. Eilan had been on the receiving end of a well-intended, terrible deception in the past. He wondered how she could have failed to take that into account. Maybe she didn't understand. Maybe she didn't think it was the same sort of situation. Maybe she was right. Either way, Dorian had said he’d protect Eilan in the future and he had. He'd also made the whole ghastly affair tolerable.

Since then, even though it had only been a short while, Dorian had continued to be a reliable, protective friend. One whom Eilan felt he could learn a great deal from, and one who he already cherished. What Dorian needed was not a Revered Mother running interference between him and his family. What he needed was a reliable, protective friend of his own. 

"Mother Giselle," Eilan said, cutting her off gently, "with all due respect, I will not trick Dorian. Not into meeting his family. Not into anything else."

She sighed heavily. "I feared you might say that. There is a retainer waiting to meet the young man in Redcliffe. If Dorian truly does not wish this reunion, he can always end matters there."

“Of course.”

“Then I shall leave the letter and this matter with you?”

“That would be for the best, I think. For all concerned.” He took the letter without reading it although he could see she was waiting for him to do so. “Thank you, Mother Giselle.”

Recognizing this as a dismissal, she left his room. 

She had meant well. She probably always meant well. If only she could do well a little bit more. Eilan wondered if he ought to discuss this matter with Cassandra. Maybe she had some ideas for what he ought to do in terms of finding the Revered Mother something with which to occupy her time.

“You’re all right in here?” Cullen asked, knocking and entering the room at the same time.

“Yes. Why?”

“I saw Mother Giselle enter and… Was Cole in here? Cassandra’s… Well, she’s hounding him. Or vice versa. I’m not entirely sure anymore, only that she insisted I look into it.”

“I’ll try to find Cole at some point. Maybe you could ask Cassandra to speak to Mother Giselle? She seems to need more good works to focus on.”

Cullen raised an eyebrow. “You sound mildly irritated.”

“I am.”

“I realize it might be none of my business, but I’ve noticed you’re not keen on Mother Giselle.”

Eilan blinked. “I don’t… I don’t mean to be...”

“Maker’s Breath. I am honestly not… This isn’t me trying to…” Cullen sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s merely that I’m not blind. You seemed a bit off after speaking to Mother Giselle in the Frostbacks. And again during the singing. And recently I’ve seen a great deal less of you than I have before. I thought that it might all be connected somehow.”

“Did everyone notice?”

“I highly doubt it,” Cullen assured him. “I did. Bull did. We… spoke about it briefly. I imagine some of the others did as well. Those who know you. I meant to stop you and ask if you were well. But you were off with Solas by then.”

“At the time, I was struggling with my title. What it meant. I hadn’t considered it until Mother Giselle spoke to me. I thought she was telling me how everyone else felt.”

“How everyone else felt?”

“I’ve made peace with my title since then,” Eilan said, glancing around the room. “And I recognize how foolish it was to believe everyone ever feels the same way about any one thing or person.”

“Maker,” Cullen murmured, walking further into the room. “Can I ask… What did she say to you?”

“It’s not much what she said. I’m certain she didn’t mean to make me feel how I did. Cullen, I believe in… I don’t disbelieve in the Maker. Or Andraste. But I don’t believe the Rite was a justified means to an end or an ordained trial.“

“Justified means to… Who told you this? Mother Giselle?”

“Not. Not precisely. Just that it seems like what’s happening now, what everyone endures… It’s selfish but we didn’t all endure the same thing.”

“It’s not selfish so much as accurate. What you’ve been through…”

“I can’t tell how people see me,” Eilan said, trying not to think of what Cole has been saying a week or so earlier. But how could he not? “I don’t want to have my Tranquility serve as some sort of trial I was made to endure. A badge of honor and shame. But I am a mage. I am, and Cassandra helped me understand that when she explained why she thought I ought to be Inquisitor. It’s not about my being a divine instrument whose life is the stuff of pageantry and prayer. Who I am is what the Maker made me. Who I am can make a difference. That I like. That I can work with. Live with.”

“I can too.”

“Can you?”

“I can," Cullen quietly replied. "In fact, I find it easier to work for and with Eilan Trevelyan than I would most people. I know how I come off. I do, but I would prefer the Inquisitor be someone kind, brave, and determined like you.”

“Truly?”

“Truly,” Cullen assured him. “Faith can see us through nearly anything. I don’t doubt that, but very few of us become living proof that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Even less of us can understand all that you’ve been through. Mother Giselle clearly did you a disservice-- potentially a great harm at a moment when you were quite vulnerable.”

“I’m not fragile, Cullen.”

“You were that night," Cullen insisted. "You’d just fended off an archdemon-dragon-monster and a withered old Magister. Then you’d wandered the Frostback Mountains long enough to cling to me like I was a favorite toy once you’d found us. To demand to know if your Qunari needed a sweater. You were ever so unhappy whenever anyone tried to take you away from me. Cassandra tried twice. In fact, she almost came to blows with Josephine when it was time to give you over to the healer.”

“Josephine?”

“Josephine is very fond of you. Anyway, it worked out. Cassandra left it to me, and I stayed with you. Making up answers to ridiculous questions concerning the origins of royal and common elfroot. And telling you whether or not I thought common elfroot was ever sad about its lack of a title... I told you I suspected that common elfroot might have an inferiority complex, but that it would be all right.”

Eilan ducked his head. “Oh.”

“And, of course," Cullen said with a heavy sigh, "we kept returning to your favorite topic: Bull’s body temperature at any given point in time. So I highly doubt that you were in any position to engage in any sort of meaningful discussion or debate.” 

“Please stop. Please don’t tell me anymore about this dark period of my life.”

Cullen laughed. “No harm done.”

Eilan glanced up, still a bit red in the face. “Save to my reputation.” 

“May I point out that we still made you Inquisitor? Anyway, you all but fled after the song. And you went to Solas?” Cullen asked, a trace of disdain coloring his tone.

“He was... helpful.”

“But only as much as he needed to be, right?”

“I…”

“I have nothing against Solas. He has done a great deal for you and for the Inquisition. Both of which are quite important to me,” Cullen said, rubbing the back of his neck again. “So I know he would never have been comforting enough. I don’t believe he would have given you anything close to what you might have needed.”

“You don’t?”

“I don’t. Listen, Eilan. I’m not entirely sorry for the argument we had about the mages, but I am... I will never quite forgive myself for letting you serve as bait. Or for anything that happened back at Haven.” He came closer until there was only a hint of space between them. “Now that I have the chance,” Cullen murmured. “I want to assure you that what happened there, will not happen again. You will not be left like that to keep the rest of us safe.”

“I would appreciate that, but I managed,” Eilan insisted. “It’s not like I stood there flapping my arms around until the dragon showed up.”

“No. You were brave.” Cullen smiled fondly. “I’ve never seen anyone braver. I remember when we first found you. I remember how hard you clung to Solas or Varric. Or… Or to anyone.” 

Eilan hesitated, then said: “Or to you."

“Me?”

“It must have been you. You must have been there. Because when I heard you sing…”

Cullen took Eilan’s hand in his, smiling sheepishly. “You remembered that?”

“I remembered.”

“You were in such a terrible state. You couldn’t adjust and none of us could determine how to aid you. One night, when I heard you, I thought about…” Cullen trailed off, unwilling to continue that particular sentence. “Well, I understood. As much as anyone could understand. So I sang to you like I would… Like I would to anyone who needed comfort. I didn’t think about you being a mage or my having been a templar. I just sang to you. And held you. And eventually you slept. So I returned to you at night and helped when Varric and Solas could not. Until you opened your eyes. Once you were more aware of what was going on… I suppose… Well, I didn’t know how to tell you.” 

Eilan threw his arms around Cullen, giving him a hug. “Then thank you. For telling me now.”

Cullen laughed, looking more than a bit surprised. He gingerly returned the embrace. “I… Really, Inquisitor… Should you really be so happy about this? I didn’t tell you until I’d already been found out, you know.”

Eilan smiled. “I’m allowed to be. I appreciate what you did.”

“Very well.” Cullen sighed wistfully then added: “However you came to be here when we needed you most, however you manage to do several impossible things on a daily basis… You are here now. You are here, and you are remarkable. You need never doubt that.”

“Cullen…”

“I don’t know what I have to do to prove it to you, but I will do it. I want to be there for you. I understand someone else… That is, I understand that we’re friends. That’s all well and good, but I’d like to help. If you’ll let me.”

“I will,” Eilan said quietly, resting his head against Cullen’s shoulder. “I will. I’ll let you.”

Cullen rested his chin lightly on top of Eilan’s head and sighed again. Very quietly. “Thank you.”

“I will also patch the hole in your roof myself if you don’t have it seen to.”

“Understood, Inquisitor.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist including a reference to this [silly guide to elfroot](http://cruelestmonth.tumblr.com/post/104509276870/ellustration-breaking-news-i-have-a-terrible).
> 
> Happy New Year's Eve!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! Thank you for all the lovely feedback so far!
> 
> It's a bit of a longer chapter today, but I felt like all of these parts needed to go together. And I'm sure no one minds. :)

*

“What are you gonna do with the letter?” Bull asked. 

Eilan stopped pacing and sighed. “Give it to Dorian. He can decide what we do.”

“You’re still kind of angry about it.”

“I still kind of am.”

“I’m pretty sure she’s the only one around here that thinks you’re a dumbass who likes walking into obvious traps.”

“There is that. And I’m sure she…” Eilan scowled. “Do you know how many times I’ve told myself that Mother Giselle means well? Countless times, and that was just today.”

“Eh, forget about her. She’s not here. Or worth your time. So come here.”

Eilan moved over to him, blushing as he was tugged onto the Qunari’s lap. “Hello.”

“Hello.” Bull fingered the collar of the robes Vivienne had given him. They were white and blue velveteen instead of beige ‘whatever’ as she had called it. “I like these better than the hideous pajamas.”

“They are a bit nicer.”

“Much. The furniture in here seems…”

“I wouldn’t trust it.”

“Yeah. It’ll be an interesting night.”

“We could share the bed. Even if its frame gives up the fight, we’d still be able to salvage the mattress.”

“That doesn’t change my previous statement.”

Eilan smiled.

“Or the fact that, once again, you’re thinking about something. Might as well tell me.”

Eilan sighed heavily, smile fading.

“That bad?”

“No just… It’s about Cullen.” 

“What about him?”

“Back in Haven… You remember when all three of us talked…”

“I liked that.”

“I did too.”

“And you like him.”

“I do but…” Eilan closed his eyes. “I can’t…”

The Iron Bull rested his chin against Eilan’s hair, toying with a few white strands. “You liking him doesn’t negate you liking me. I get that.”

“But I can barely offer you--” 

“Oh fuck no,” Bull said gruffly, pulling back so that they were looking at one another. “No. We’ve been over this. I’ll stop listening if you say even one shitty thing about yourself. One unkind thing about what you actually need from a partner.”

“It’s just… Is it fair to want more than one person?”

Bull shrugged. “Kinda depends, boss. It's better to own your feelings than to be in denial about 'em. Who you spend time with and how you feel… That’s not about fairness. Shouldn’t be anyway.”

Eilan sighed quietly. “In the future, you both… I couldn’t even touch you.” 

“The red lyrium,” Bull said. 

“Yes and… It was so difficult. You were still you but you weren’t at the same time. And I wanted to just hold your hand or… Kiss you. Because what did it matter at that point if I could just erase some of the damage done. But I couldn’t. It was like that with Cullen too.”

“He was a mess, huh?”

Eilan nodded. “He was… They’d… I suppose they’d been feeding it to him.”

The Iron Bull just grunted.

“Then everyone went off willingly to die for me. For a better future. I couldn’t even speak to you. I couldn’t do anything for you save send you away from me to face a horde of demons.”

“That isn’t on you. That wasn’t your fault.”

“Wasn’t it?”

The Iron Bull shook his head, cupping Eilan’s cheek between his fingers and looking down at him. “It wasn’t, and that didn’t happen. So with Cullen...” 

“I said goodbye to him. I helped with his armor and… I kissed his helmet. You… There wasn’t enough armor.”

“Not to take away from how rough that was, but here in the present moment… You know vitaar is poisonous, right?”

“...it is?”

“Yeah. So if and when I have any on… Well, if it’s just been applied to my skin? Hands off until it's dried, okay?”

“Oh.” Eilan said with a frown. Then he colored slightly.

“Why’s that disappointing?”

It’s just that I couldn’t… help you put it on? Not that I need to, but I’d thought about it. Asking you, I mean.”

Bull blinked. “No, and I’m only now realizing how much that sucks. Back to your recap though.”

Eilan sighed quietly. “All I’m trying to say is I knew it then, but I don’t know how this works. The thought of having you here and him here… I think it would work for me but...”

“Well, it won’t hurt my feelings if you want him around.”

“Does it make you feel…”

The Qunari waited for him to finish, stroking fingers over his neck.

“Does it feel you feel less wanted or needed?”

“Do you want me less? Need me less?”

Eilan shook his head, taking the Iron Bull’s hand in his. He reached up with his other hand and touched the Qunari’s cheek. “No. I… There’s so much about you that I like. And that I need.”

Bull smiled. “Then we’re good.”

“What about you and Cullen?”

“In terms of you or without you?”

“Both.”

“I could see the three of us spending time together. Or him with you. Or me with you. Him and I… It’s possible. That’s probably going to take the most time. Might not happen, to be honest.”

“But you get along.”

“Enough to make this work. At least on my end. None of this means I don’t like him. Cullen’s just fine. But that doesn’t mean I feel the way you do about him.”

“So… How…”

“We’ll talk. You two will talk, we will talk again, I will talk to Cullen, and all three of us will talk.”

“Um. All right.” He thought he understood what the Iron Bull meant. He sighed, leaning against one of the Qunari’s massive shoulders. 

The Qunari wrapped his arms around him, placing his head back on top of Eilan’s. “You won’t lose this. Or me.”

“Or nights like this?”

“Or nights like this, but look at it this way. You and I are going to be spending a fuckton of our time together. He’ll be stuck here a lot. You can throw the poor guy a bone and give him some nights.”

“Won’t you get…”

"Jealous?" Bull shook his head. “Multiple partners with or without sex is nothing new to me. Having it mean something is… New. Not as weird as I thought it might be. I think that’s your fault.” 

Eilan smiled, looking down. “How so?”

“You’re pretty great. So I can’t see myself being jealous in the way that you think. But-- and this is what we all need to talk about-- if he treats you badly, I’ll kill him.”

“Maybe… I should I talk to him first? Tomorrow?”

“Might as well. We’re heading off when?”

“In another day or so unless something else comes up. It’ll take Hawke a while to reach us and there is a great deal to do.”

“I’d like to point out once again that the Storm Coast has dragons.”

“As much as I want to kill dragons with you, I don’t think we’re ready.”

Bull sighed heavily. “I know. I guess the important thing is that you want to.”

“I very much want to,” Eilan said fondly. He hesitated then he leaned up and kissed the Qunari’s cheek. “I want to kill dragons with you. For you. It seems like it would make you happy.”

“And yet you wonder why I want you,” the Iron Bull murmured, rubbing Eilan’s cheek with a large thumb before kissing him back. Just as gently and just as chastely. “So we’re doing this now? Kissing, I mean?”

“Yes,” Eilan said, kissing Bull’s cheek again. “Any objections?”

Bull chuckled. “No. So. What are you thinking about now?”

“Mostly how nice the kiss was...”

“And?”

“And that maybe you can use dragon blood for vitaar. Assuming that isn’t poisonous? I don’t think all dragons are poisonous. Then I can paint it on you.”

Bull grunted, but the sound was a bit different than it typically was. Deeper somehow. 

“What?”

“It’s always the quiet ones.”

*

Eilan made his rounds in the morning, nervous about stopping by Cullen’s office. There was a part of him that was convinced it had been a mistake to tell Bull, that he’d end up losing the Qunari altogether because he'd honestly had no idea how Bull felt about Cullen. Both men were so very different. And the thought of giving up even those small, fleeting kisses he’d exchanged with the Iron Bull made him that much more anxious. 

Blackwall was a calming presence and influence. The Grey Warden seemed to carry more than a small bit of sadness with him wherever he went, but he was a good man. And quite an ambitious craftsman. Eilan sat quietly next to him on a stool. He was watching Blackwall sand down a block of wood, when an idea occurred to him.

“Blackwall?”

“Inquisitor?”

“Could I commission you to make me something?”

The Warden glanced up. “What sort of something?”

“A staff. I… So many of the ones we find are metal, and I really like the wooden one I found when I sealed my first rift.”

“You’d want me to… Surely there are others here that are more qualified, Inquisitor.”

“When it comes to infusing the staff with lyrium and the actual crafting… It’s possible. But your carving isn’t something I’m likely to find elsewhere. There’s so much detail and you seem to enjoy it. I want a staff that isn’t from a dead Venatori or found through bloodshed. One that isn’t like anyone else’s. Besides, I could tell people a Grey Warden-- What’s wrong?”

Blackwall was looking down at his scrap of sandpaper. He sighed as he looked back up. “Nothing. Not exactly. I just don’t know if my work would be something to boast about. I’ll do my best for you. The absolute best. Of that I give you my word.”

“Thank you. And… There’s no rush. There’s a great deal to do, and I’d like to offer you--”

“There’s nothing else you need offer me. I’d be glad to do it.”

Eilan nodded, but decided he would need to move locating Grey Warden artifacts slightly higher up on his list of priorities. 

He hadn’t meant not to talk to Cole. He hadn’t forgotten him. It was just that so much had been going on and… Well, EIlan had to admit he felt like he was out of his depth when it came to the other young man. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be pried into as if he was some sort of exotic seashell. 

But he felt some kinship with Cole. Hadn’t he once been just as off-putting to others with his own odd reactions to situations? So, feeling guilty, Eilan wandered around Skyhold, trying to pinpoint the young man’s location.

What he found instead was Cassandra, Vivienne, and Solas having a slightly heated debate.

"This thing is not a stray puppy you can make into a pet," Vivienne was saying. "It has no business being here."

"Wouldn't you say the same of an apostate?"

"Inquisitor," Cassandra said, inviting Eilan into the conversation. "I wonder if Cole was perhaps a mage, given his unusual abilities."

"He can cause people to forget him, or even fail entirely to notice him,” Solas said. “These are not the abilities of a mage. It seems Cole is a spirit."

They continued to disagree. Eilan politely listened, wondering if they were all seeing the same thing. He seemed to be seeing the same thing as Solas, but he wondered what Cassandra or Vivienne saw. What Bull had seen that morning in the tent. Was it something different?

"He has possessed nothing and no one, yet he appears human in all respects." Solas moved towards Eilan. "Cole is unique, Inquisitor. More than that, he wishes to help. I suggest you let him to do so."

Eilan nodded thoughtfully. “I don’t see how I can do any less for him. He warned us about Corypheus at Haven. He helped save lives."

"And what will its help cost?” Vivenne asked. “How many lives will this demon later claim? Or is he, like Corypheus before him, only here for our Inquisitor?"

"Here for me? I am not as vulnerable as all that," Eilan insisted. "I can handle a spirit or a demon.” 

“Fighting one, yes. But, my dear, this one is very talkative. And I highly doubt you want to hear what he has to say.”

“I suppose… Solas, are you certain it’s more complicated than it seems. The demons who came through the Breach, or the through the rifts, weren't possessing anything."

"Those demons were drawn through against their will, driven mad by this world."

That sounded like an accurate description of Eilan's own experience. In the beginning at any rate. Or after Haven. Was that why Solas had known how to help him? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. 

"Cole predates the Breach. From what we can tell, he has lived here for months. Perhaps years. He looks like a young man. For all intents and purposes, he is a young man. It is remarkable."

Eilan decided to reserve judgement, but he didn’t want to be ungrateful for the help Cole had given. Not without more than educated guesses and speculation on the part of his companions. "I should speak with him. Where is he now?"

“If none of us remember him, he could be anywhere.” But Cassandra was wrong. Cole was nearby, watching over and tending to wounded soldiers. Sharing their last minutes with them, giving what comfort could be given to them. 

Eilan couldn’t decide what to do or how he felt about this. He followed, watching Cole until at last the spirit spoke him.

“Don’t worry. They won’t remember me.”

“You’re using your powers to… You’re helping them and feeling all that they feel?”

“Yes. I used to think I was a ghost. I didn't know. I made mistakes... But I made friends, too. Then a templar proved I wasn't real. I lost my friends. I lost everything. I learned how to be more like what I am. It made me different, but stronger. I can feel more. I can help."

In some ways it was like looking into a weirdly, wildly distorted mirror. Eilan had no idea what to do. He didn't know how to comfort someone so much like...

"You feel so much. Drowning in questions and thoughts. Am I any different? How can I help you when I can't help myself? What can I do to prove that he doesn’t frighten me, overwhelm me? Is that what he’d like? What is he? And you feel. You always feel. Sorrow. Understanding. Guilt. Confusion. And it is all for me," Cole said quietly.

"It is."

"I would like to stay."

"I... Then do. If you're willing. The Inquisition could use your help."

"Yes, helping. I help the hurt, the helpless, there's someone... Hurts, it hurts, it hurts, someone make it stop hurting, Maker please..." The spirit draw out a knife. "The healers have done all they can. It will take him hours to die. Every moment will be agony. He wants mercy. Help."

Eilan stood stock still, fighting against a small but strong surge of alarm. Of fear. Of concern. They were similar, he and Cole, but they were not the same. This was how a spirit would help. It wouldn't understand. Cole seemed to live in the moment alongside a person he was helping. He didn’t seem to think ahead. Maybe he didn’t know how. Maybe his insights only came from the past and present.

"You say he won't die for hours yet, but you can't know that for certain," Eilan gently prompted. “He could recover. Or the healers could find another way to help him.”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t. Neither do you. That’s part of life.”

“Try,” Cole said thoughtfully. “I want to stay.”

“Good. Um. Cole?”

“Yes.”

“Would you do something for me? Because I am a little… Well, you already know.” 

“Ask,” Cole said, turning in Eilan’s direction. “You can ask.”

“Would you explain to me how it is that you help people?”

“I start by listening. I hear hurt. Feel it fretting. Some you can solve by giving something. Food. A blanket. Sleep. Some are intangible. Terrible tangles that catch on a crack. Fixed, festering, and person makes a pearl of pain. You do that."

Eilan managed a shaky nod. 

"You want to hold that pain close to you, keep it away from the others. That pain is yours. It is private. That pain is yours. Who else would want it? But he wants it. The Iron Bull."

Eilan exhaled heavily, wishing Cole would stop. But he felt trapped by the words. He didn’t know what to do besides listen.

"He does what I do only better. Better for you. He knows how to help more than I could. More and all for you. He shakes it from your hands, catches it. No pearl, no pain. So you can hope, so you can heal. Then he stays. Then he holds you. He hopes you’ll remember. So next time will be different.”

“Cut that out.” Varric. At some point he’d joined them. He was watching them-- No, he was watching Cole. It was hard to tell what he was thinking, but his tone was firm and slightly resigned. “You shouldn’t do that to him. Don't you know that?”

“I want to help,” Cole said, clearly bewildered.

“Kid... Come on. Does it look like you actually helped?”

“I… No. I did not help,” Cole murmured. He circled Eilan thoughtfully, studying him closely. “You are scared now. You are scared that I will tell him. That if he knows he will leave you. But why? Why would he leave you when already you mean something? Shouldn’t he know? Shouldn’t _you_ know? Shouldn’t he be pleased? ...Should I make you forget?”

“No, Cole," Eilan managed. "You can just try again later. Um. To help, I mean. If you wish to.”

“You would let me. You are shaking, trembling, terrified of how I hear you. How I see you. What I feel from you. But you would let me.”

“Of course. I know you didn’t mean to upset me.”

“I don’t understand,” Cole murmured. “I don’t understand you.”

“Yeah, great. Let’s leave the nice Inquisitor alone. We’ll go talk about it,” Varric offered. He headed off, spirit in tow and Solas trailing behind them.

Eilan considered going after them, but honestly he thought they could handle the situation better than he could. Inside, he was already overwhelmed by thoughts and feelings. Having someone else articulate them so exactly was disconcerting and Cole had been right. Eilan had been scared. Too scared to move or to speak. Or even to ask Cole to stop.

Vivienne approached him, touching his shoulder briefly. “You may wish to reconsider, my dear. For your own sake,” was all she said before she moved on. She’d been right in part at least. Eilan had not wanted to hear any of what Cole had shared. He appreciated that Vivienne had kept from saying as much.

*

Cullen had offered comfort not too long ago. Eilan felt he needed that after speaking with Cole and he had been meaning to speak to the other man anyway. So Eilan went to the Commander’s office. 

He knocked and entered, not terribly surprised to find someone else was there with him. “I can come back--”

“Nonsense, Inquisitor,” Cullen said, passing a report to the other soldier in the room. “Come in and have a seat.” 

Eilan sat in the chair that had been indicated to him. He leaned forward, head in his hands. He heard Cullen’s signatures became less of a leisurely scrawl and more haphazard, but he didn’t look up. 

“The rest can keep,” Cullen said. 

“Ser,” the soldier answered before seeing herself out the door. 

Cullen came over to the chair. “What’s happened?”

“I spoke to Cole.”

“Ah. What did he have to say?”

“Too much. He saw… He saw everything,” Eilan said, putting a hand over his eyes. “He felt what I felt and it’s too much. It’s not right. I know it’s not his fault but those are my thoughts. My feelings. People heard them. People saw…”

Cullen stood there for a moment more. Then, after placing his sword and its scabbard on his desk, he knelt down. His hands were a warm, light weight on Eilan’s knees. 

“Hello to you too,” Cullen said quietly when Eilan finally risked a glance at him.

Eilan hiccuped as he laughed. “Hello.”

“I did say to come in here with your problems. I’m glad you finally listened,” Cullen murmured, pulling him down slightly and into his arms. “So what happened after that?”

“I couldn’t do anything. Cole wasn’t trying to cause a problem but he kept talking and I couldn’t move. Varric swooped in though. He seemed to want to take care of explaining how things needed to work. I let him.”

“Well, then I wouldn’t worry too much. Varric can more than likely talk his ear off or some sense into him. Or both.”

“It was just… I can’t… I shouldn’t have left that to Varric. I shouldn’t let myself get--“

“You have every right to feel this way. What is in here,” Cullen said pointing to Eilan’s head and heart. “Those are yours. It was very wrong of him to pry them open without your permission. I’m sure he was trying to help in some horrible, awkward sort of way that more than likely wouldn’t ever have worked. That boy appears to be an insane--”

“Spirit. He’s a spirit.”

“Lovely,” Cullen muttered. “I can guess the answer to this question but… Are you letting him stay?”

“I am. If something can be worked out.”

Cullen sighed. “If you must, Inquisitor. I wonder...”

“Yes?”

“These thoughts and feelings that you have… They deserve to be expressed, don’t they? You mustn’t be so scared of the effect they might have on others that you let them be taken away or that you never share them. Still, Cole handled the matter poorly, and if he is a spirit of some sort… Well, we’ll have to keep a close eye on him, and as you said… We’ll see if this can work.” 

“I agree. I’ll tell Solas and Varric as much. It’s possible they’ll manage to make something work. I’m not sure I would be as successful. Not with him being so aware of emotions and my having so many. Maybe if he’d shown up later, but as it is…”

“As it is,” Cullen repeated, rising to his feet and dragging another chair over. He set it right next to Eilan’s, their knees gently touching. “Let’s stick with that. As it is, I believe you made the best decision you could given the facts. Misunderstandings are par for the course around here, and I understand the need to give people a chance to prove themselves. So far it has worked out rather well.” 

“It has,” Eilan agreed.

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean… Please understand, Eilan, that I cannot suffer through you being terrorized into utter helplessness by a well-meaning _anything_ much less a spirit. As your Commander and as your friend, I will not be able to sit idly by and do nothing if he consistently vexes you in this fashion. Nor is it in me to ignore Cole if he remains a threat to you, even if it’s only by accident and not active intent.”

Eilan wiped at his face, considering this. “He can’t remain if he cannot be of benefit. I don’t want to be cruel to him or anyone else, but you’re right. I don’t know that I can handle him doing that to me on a regular basis. It’s only... Can he really be blamed, Cullen? Isn’t part of what happened my own doing?”

“Your own doing? That seems absolutely impossible, but perhaps you ought to explain why you feel responsible.”

“He’s picking up on my thoughts and my emotions. Broadcasting them back to me in a way that makes me uncomfortable and anxious, but he didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. I just… I feel too much. I want too much. I need too much. And if Bull knows or you know…”

“So we’re going to talk about that,” Cullen said gently. “I was wondering if we would.”

Eilan sighed heavily, looking down. “I’m so sorry, Cullen. I can’t give Bull up. I understand how this must seem to you, but I can’t.”

Cullen sighed heavily too, taking one of Eilan’s hands in his. “You needn’t apologize although… Eilan, are you asking me for something? If so, you do know one usually asks for something before assuming it’s been rejected, yes?”

“Maybe?”

“Well, let me help. I know about you and Bull. In fact, he explained what happened after Haven in a general sense. The details he left to you but Bull is… Well, I think you’re lucky to have him,” Cullen said, gently wiping at Eilan’s eyes with his free hand. “It doesn’t change nor do I believe it impacts our friendship.”

Eilan shook his head.

“You may need to explain.”

“I… It’s… I do want to ask you something, Cullen.”

Cullen laughed gently. “Maker. All right. Then maybe you ought to ask me.”

“All right.” Eilan hesitated then: “Ever since I met you, I have felt a really strong connection to you. Ever since I’ve met Bull, it’s been different and yet very much the same. I want to be with Bull. He’s… I really like him, and you’re right. I really am lucky to have him.”

“And he you,” Cullen put in. 

“I suppose,” Eilan allowed, “but I also feel so many things when it comes to you. When you smile, I can’t look away. When you speak, I just wish I could be in your arms. And when you’re near me, it’s… It feels right. More than anything, I want to be with you too.”

“You said that,” Cullen murmured in a bewildered tone. He ducking his head, smiling. “Maker’s Breath.”

“You’re not upset?”

“Upset?” Cullen asked, looking up. “I’m not sure I’ve ever heard such a compelling proposal. Not, at least, in terms of becoming a person’s second lover. That’s what we’re discussing, right?”

Eilan managed a wan smile. “Right. Um. But it would be second only in terms of chronology. I can’t imagine ranking people. Although I… that is… ‘Lover’ might be the wrong term?”

“You and Bull have…”

“It’s been fairly chaste,” Eilan admitted, looking down. “Mostly being close to one another. Kissing on the cheek. Holding hands. And he holds me when I sleep.”

“That constitutes a lover, I should think. Honestly, being fairly chaste makes perfect sense. It’s hardly surprising given how new all of this must be for you. No sense rushing things.”

“No?”

Cullen laughed. “Templar, remember? I was and have been fairly chaste myself. Not to mention the fact that I haven’t really… That is, I’ve not exactly sought out partners in recent years.”

“But no vows?”

Cullen shook his head, still amused. “They weren’t required so no. No vows.”

“Oh.”

“Either way, if to see me smile, to be held by me, and to be close to me is what you want... What you need... Even if someone else managed to get there first, I would say yes. I feel the same connection as you do. I won’t say this is exactly what I anticipated. Far from it, but the strangeness of the proposition is balanced out by how right being with you continues to be.” Cullen sighed thoughtfully. “After all, how can I say no when what you want is exactly what I would like from you myself?

“Truly?”

“Truly,” Cullen said, touching Eilan’s cheek. “I’ve never been very good at meeting my own needs much less understanding them. It's probably best if we stick to whatever you want. And there. I’ve gotten another smile out of you already.”

Eilan blushed faintly and then leaned in to kiss Cullen’s cheek. “Thank you.”

“You’re entirely welcome,” Cullen said, coloring slightly as well. “Granted, I’m not entirely sure what to do with a Qunari… But it doesn’t sound like you’re asking me to figure that out yet. Not exactly.”

“What you do with me and with Bull… We’ll all have to talk about it, but I don’t imagine your feelings for some another are the same.”

“If nothing else, it sounds like he’s given you more stability and comfort than the rest of us,” Cullen said a bit wistfully. “Besides, you should have someone with you during all of this, and that won’t always be me. In fact, it often won’t be.” 

“Can I write you letters then?”

“Letters?”

“I did when we camped. But I… I think… Maybe Cole doesn’t scare me or at least in of himself he doesn’t. Maybe it’s what he can articulate. Maybe the way that I feel is what scares me. I felt so afraid when I re-read the letters I wrote to you.” Eilan closed his eyes, trying to keep from feeling ashamed. “I couldn’t send them.”

“That’s all right,” Cullen said, pulling Eilan into a gentle hug. “Oh, sweetheart, that’s all right. What did you say?”

“How I felt about the Tranquil when we found that house. About how much I valued our friendship. How I hoped we could practice together. How I hoped you and Bull would. About how much I missed you. And that...” 

Cullen kissed Eilan’s cheek. “You can send me a letter wherever you are and whenever you like. Even when you’re here. I don’t care if it’s a sentence at best, pages upon pages of how you’re feeling at any given moment, or a ridiculous essay on your favorite plants. Just… send me whatever you’d like. I’d be grateful for the change of pace. Nearly all my mail is work-related.”

“Will you answer them?”

“I will although I cannot promise they will be as well-written as you deserve. Not at first. I’ll work at it.” Cullen touched Eilan’s cheek gently. “There’s a great deal we need to learn about each other. There’s a great deal I should tell you. You and Bull. I shouldn’t… That is, I would prefer to tell you both at the same time.”

“You look worried.”

“Hardly any of it is very good. I suspect much of what I must share is fairly obvious to Bull. He’s certainly protective of you, and I’m glad that he is. But what I should tell you…”

“I’ve told you so many things. I think I’ve expressed every emotion I’ve had in front of you, whether I’ve wanted to or not. You haven’t ever treated me poorly for it, Cullen. You should tell me things too.”

“But I haven’t always been kind,” Cullen pointed out. “And I ought to be. I will be.”

“Cullen, no one can be kind all of the time.”

“Maker save me from these depressingly low standards and expectations,” Cullen said with a small smile. “You deserve infinitely better than that.”

*

They met in Eilan’s quarters, and for once he was grateful for the isolation. And although he felt shy about it, he couldn’t help greeting the Iron Bull very warmly when he saw him again.

Bull hugged him gently, kissing his hair. “Hey,” he said quietly. “How come everytime I get you back from somewhere, someone’s messed with you?”

“Cole,” Cullen explained, “but it’s being sorted out.”

“Part of it was me. I… Never mind.” Eilan couldn’t continue with the Qunari glaring at him. And he already knew what Bull would say if prompted. 

Bull nodded. “So let’s talk then. How’s everyone feeling?”

“Good,” Eilan said.

“Hopeful,” Cullen murmured. “And good, of course.”

“This doesn’t need to be really formal,” Bull said, sitting down on the couch near the stairs. Eilan fetched a chair for Cullen before sitting down next to the Qunari. “But I think we need to just be clear about a couple of things. First, this is to be relaxing not stressful. Especially if it’s in the evening. Yes, we all have shit to sort through. Sorting through that is fine. Playing out bullshit is not.” 

“Understood.”

“Second, I don’t do anything he doesn’t want to do. And what he’s been doing is what I’ve doing. He instigates new things, and if he doesn’t we don’t do anything else. And there’s no pressure for anything else.”

Cullen nodded thoughtfully.

“One other thing. It’s good that you want to tell us about whatever happened. I’d rather not hold it against you, but it might mean we have to consider the logistics of some of what we do. Depending on what it is.”

“Agreed, and I have no wish to make things worse for you,” Cullen said, glancing at Eilan. His frown was apologetic.

“Worse for me?”

Cullen looked down at his hands. “You never really asked me what happened to Ferelden’s Circle.”

“No,” Eilan admitted. 

“It’s not easy for me… You need to know,” he reminded himself before continuing: “During the Blight, the place was overrun. Taken over by abominations. Demons. The templars-- my friends-- were slaughtered. I was… tortured. They tried to break my mind. The Hero of Ferelden sorted the matter out, saved the Circle… What could be save. But I didn't want her to save it. I wanted... I wanted so much worse to happen to the Circle, and I wasn't myself... I wasn’t the same after that.”

The Iron Bull squeezed Eilan’s shoulder when he attempted to speak. The Qunari shook his head.

Cullen chuckled bitterly, gazing at the stained glass windows. The panes were from Serault, and Eilan preferred them to ones that had been there at first. “How can you be the same person after that? Still, I wanted to serve. They sent me to Kirkwall. I trusted my Knight-Commander. I wanted to believe that this was my chance to do the right thing. But it wasn’t. Her fear of mages ended in madness. Kirkwall’s Circle fell. Innocent people died in the streets. I met Cassandra, and the rest you know. I want nothing more to do with that life.” 

“I like who you are,” Eilan said quietly.

“But you wouldn’t have then,” Cullen assured him, looking away from the window and the view off the balcony. Back towards them but without exactly meeting their gazes.

“I was not a good man let alone a templar. The man I was then… Anyway, the point of all this is that you ought to know the mistakes I’ve made, the severity of them. I did not conduct myself properly as a member of my order. What happened at both Circles haunts me still. Sleep doesn’t come easily to me. When it comes at all.”

Eilan reached forward, placing his hand on top of Cullen’s.

“Well, shit,” Bull said quietly. “Wasn’t expecting all of that. I’m guessing sleeping arrangements…” 

Cullen shook his head. “I honestly don’t think it matters now. You’re both leaving in a few days and… well, it’s awfully fast for…” He cleared his throat. “I don’t mind worrying about that sort of thing later.”

“All right.”

Eilan frowned. “Cullen…”

“Eilan, it’s all right. You’ve voiced your feelings and I’ve done the same with mine. I’m beyond grateful, but we’re still getting to know one another. What you get from Bull isn’t something I want to take away from you. I’m not sure how much of a comfort I’d be at night right now anyway.”

Eilan continued to frown, concerned that Cullen was only doing this, offering this, for Eilan’s own benefit. He didn’t want to constantly be a burden to anyone, let alone the two men he wanted to be with.

“Look at it another way,” Cullen suggested. “Going slow and sleeping apart will give me a chance to court you properly.”

“...court me?”

“I’d like to give it a try.”

“Oh.” Eilan colored slightly.

“Unless you’re opposed to it?”

“No, I just… I’m doing this backwards, aren’t I?”

“There’s no right or wrong way,” Bull promised him.

“There is, however, one more thing,” Cullen said quietly. “There is something you should know, Eilan. Not only as someone I wish to be with but as the leader of the Inquisition.”

“I can go,” Bull offered.

Cullen glanced up. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

The Qunari shrugged. “If you’re talking shop, I’d rather not be here. It’s easier not to report things if I don’t know about ‘em. Not that I’d put whatever it is in a report, but I’m not here to make things difficult.”

“That’s good of you,” Eilan said with a small smile. If it proved necessary, he’d end up telling Bull about it anyway. 

Bull grunted. He kissed at a spot right behind Eilan’s ear, getting to his feet. “You want anything to eat, boss?”

“Yes, if you don’t mind bringing me back something.”

“Cullen?”

“I’m good. Thank you.”

Bull ruffled Eilan’s hair, then headed for the door. 

Eilan smiled fondly after him before looking to Cullen.

“He really does make you happy,” Cullen marveled before clearing his throat. “To more serious matters…”

Eilan considered Cullen and patted the empty spot next to him on the couch. “All right. Come here?”

The Commander hesitated, seeming startled by the offer. “Maker, I would like to. It’s only that...”

“Would I be too distracting?”

“You always capture my attention. And I’d gladly give you all of it, but we ought to discuss this first.”

Eilan chuckled, blushing slightly. “Very well.” 

“I’ve confided thus far only in Cassandra but… As you know, lyrium grants templars our abilities, but it controls us as well. Those cut off suffer. Some go mad. Others die. I no longer take it.

Eilan blinked. This didn’t seem like something he ought to just be finding out. "You stopped?" he asked.

"When I joined the Inquisition. It's been months now.”

“Cullen… If this could kill you…”

“After what happened in Kirkwall, I couldn’t. I will not be bound to the order or that life any longer. Whatever the suffering, I accept it.” 

“Suffering?”

“It is...difficult. But I would not put the Inquisition at risk. Nor you. I asked Cassandra to watch me. She still does. If my ability to lead is compromised, I will be relieved from duty. If my ability to…” Cullen sighed. “As I’ve said, you’re lucky to have Bull for I know I cannot provide you with the same things he can. I would, however, prefer to court you and prove that I can offer you something of value.”

How he wished Bull had stayed. Eilan wasn’t sure what he ought to do with this but then again it would be his decision whether the Qunari was in the room or not. 

“Are you in pain now?”

“I can endure it.”

Eilan closed his eyes. Lyrium, taken or not, was dangerous. The future he’d seen did little to improve his feelings on any sort of lyrium. And he did understand Cullen's decision.

“Thank you for telling me,” he said at last, opening his eyes. “I’m not entirely sure… It hardly matters, I suppose.”

“What doesn’t?”

“That no one told me before. I wasn’t a leader, I know that. It's just that you left so many decisions up to me with all of you questioning what I did even as you left me to do it.”

“Your decisions weren’t as personal.”

“Yet yours could affect the Inquisition as much as mine.” 

“I know,” Cullen said quietly. “That’s why I’m telling you now. I realize how this must make you feel.”

“Do you?”

“Used. Angry. Resentful. Disrespected. Concerned.”

Eilan looked down.

“You deserve to feel that way. I imagined you would and I regret that telling you has… Eilan, I made the decision at a time when I felt the only person I could trust with the knowledge of it was Cassandra. I wish I understood then what I was understood the day we made you Inquisitor. But I didn’t. I’ve never been one for wise choices. This resolve to give up lyrium is the first one I’ve made that felt right.”

“I respect your decision. I would like to respect all of your decisions.” 

“Thank you, Inquisitor. Your army must always take priority. Should anything happen, I will defer to Cassandra’s judgement.”

Eilan frowned. Cassandra would know more than he would what to watch for, but at the same time… Wasn’t he their leader? Wasn’t he the one who ought to decide? 

“Maker, I’m doing it again. I suppose it’s that she helped me in Kirkwall. She’s helped me since then. It is nothing against you. Would you prefer it was to your judgement that I deferred?” 

“Yes and no. I understand you wanting Cassandra’s opinion and it would be helpful. I imagine she'd notice things that I wouldn't,” Eilan said. He paused. Then, with a flinty edge to his tone, he added: “But I’m the Inquisitor.”

“I know that.”

“Do you? Because if you do maybe can you explain why I’m the only person here who makes decisions after consulting and listening to the opinion of others. Why I’m the only one here scrabbling about the place and falling all over myself trying to help every single solitary person I come across while the rest of you bicker in the courtyard like small children. And I have done that since the beginning. And no matter what I do it isn’t enough for you to tell me a bloody thing about what’s going on.”

“Eilan, that’s…” Cullen growled quietly and then sighed. “That's unfair, but you’re right. You’re right, and there’s nothing I can do about what’s been done before. I know how we’ve behaved. How we’ve treated you. I know you expected better from those leading the Inquisition. If anything we’re the ones who are working to prove ourselves to you now.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Cassandra couldn’t see past her need for Hawke. Leliana can’t see past the Divine’s death. Josephine manages far better than the rest of us, but I can barely manage myself when there's no work to be done. Can’t you see that none of us… We picked you because you are the way you are, Eilan. Because you do listen. You do make good decisions. You do work tirelessly on the behalf of others. And you do a far better job than all of us combined.”

Cullen looked down, taking one of Eilan’s hands in his and rubbing the back of it. “There is nothing I can do about keeping this from you. That’s why I told you now. Not to upset you but because to keep the matter from you any longer is not only distasteful but disrespectful too. As disrespectful as keeping it from you in the first place."

“It just feels… It felt like I was doing everything wrong,” Eilan said quietly. “Like I really was your pet mage and…”

“You’re not that," Cullen said firmly. "You are not that. You never were.”

“I keep thinking it’s what I am that was making this so hard, but I can’t help what I am. I can’t help what I’ve been through. I’m trying to be… I’m trying to be strong and inspiring and confident. I’m trying to do what needs to be done. But I...”

The door opened and Bull entered.

Eilan sniffed quietly, lightly removing his hand from Cullen’s grip. He hurriedly wiped at his face.

“Well, this is fucking great,” Bull said gruffly. “Is this what I have to look forward to?”

“I’m not a mess you’re expected to come clean up,” Eilan snapped.

There was a bit of silence for a moment. Eilan blinked as the Qunari leaned down, kissing at his temple. “Aw, boss... You’re not a mess.” Bull glanced over at Cullen as he moved away. “I’m torn between wanting to know what I missed and wanting to never find out but… I guess food can wait.” 

The Qunari set a tray down on a near-by end table. Then sat down on the couch beside Eilan, eying Cullen thoughtfully. “Don’t stop on my account.”

“You’re not doing anything wrong,” Cullen insisted, recovering quickly from the interruption. “You have and you continue to prove yourself, Eilan. This is why I want to prove myself to you. I haven’t done that yet. I’ve given you words and offers to do as much. That’s it. But please… I made that decision before I met you. I didn’t tell you about my decision because I didn’t want anyone to know. Least of all you. 

"Not because I didn’t want your opinion. Not because you arrived to us in pain and suffering. But because you have managed so much worse with so much more grace and courage. Because you look at people and you see so much good in them. You want to help them and you do. When you look at me, you don’t see what a wretched, broken thing I’ve let myself become. But I’m tired of both being a failure and of failing everyone.” 

“Is… Is that really why?” Eilan asked in a small voice. 

“That’s why,” Cullen said gently. “You seem to think that I’m above self-doubt and self-deprecation. That for all that I enjoy the time I spend with you, that I secretly think that you’re some sort of child or wounded halla placed in my care. That’s just not true. It’s myself that I think less of, and it’s you that… I think a great deal of you and about you. And you’re certainly not a mess.”

It made sense given Cullen’s past. Eilan preferred thinking that what Cullen said was true. That it was only that the Commander couldn’t trust himself and didn’t have much faith in himself or his abilities. That Cullen couldn’t stand to allow others to know of his life before save those who already did like Cassandra and possibly both Leliana and Josephine. It was either believe what the man said to be true, or continue to feel like a mabari pup taken in out of the snow, life indebted to those who had given it shelter. A hound that was praised when good and brought to heel when bad. Eilan was awfully tired of feeling like a kicked dog, and it sounded like Cullen was too.

Eilan still wanted to be with Cullen. He still wanted to see him smile, to be held by him, to hold him back, and to kiss him. But he wanted to not be kept from seeing all that Cullen was. If he wanted Cullen, it was all of Cullen. That included whatever he was hiding under all the armor, loud commands, and his generally confident demeanor. 

Perhaps that was why it was so easy with Bull. Eilan felt like he could see the Qunari well enough, that while there were things to learn about him, there was nothing there that Eilan couldn’t touch. He just had to ask. He just needed to be willing to accept all the jumbled thoughts he had, the ones Cole had revealed so easily and quickly in the courtyard.

“Then we ought to try making decisions together,” Eilan said after taking this all in. “And I think a courtship could only help us at this point. In some respects, we need to start over. You’ve helped me a great deal, Cullen, I would never deny that. What I feel for you hasn’t changed, but I need to learn how to see what you’re really going through underneath it all. I need you to feel like you can confide in me, particularly if you’re suffering. I don’t want you to be in pain and I don’t want for that to go unnoticed.” 

“I’d like that,” Cullen said. “Thank you.”

“Another footstep on the long, winding road to recovery,” Bull said after munching on a seed cake. Among other things, he’d brought up a large plate of small pastries. “It’s good. You can’t be with someone or face your fears if you can’t figure out who you are. Gotta say, this whole upsetting him thing isn’t good. Eventually it’ll end with me getting angry and you getting bloody. So you’re going to have to get your shit together. Just so we’re clear.”

“That seems,” Cullen exhaled quietly. “Fair. A little harsh but certainly fair.”

Both men smiled at each other, and Eilan decided he would take that as a good sign.

“For all that it upset you... As much as I am loathe coming to you with so many problems to share, I don’t regret telling you all of this,” Cullen said. “I doubt you have anything so complicated to tell me, Eilan. I’m not sure if Bull has anything--”

“He snores,” Eilan replied.

The Qunari in question grunted. “You’ve been dying to tell someone that, haven’t you?”

“I thought since we were sharing… And I wanted…”

“A lighter mood.” The Iron Bull smiled down at him, tightening his grip in a way that suggested reassurance rather than irritation. “I get that. Share your own shit, boss. Not mine.”

“All right. If it helps my previous and current hobbies include music, riding and herbalism. Oh, and reading. And magic.”

Cullen smiled hesitantly. “I didn’t know about the first two, to be honest. I suppose I ought to get a move on then with the Red Hart and the Bog Unicorn. If you’d like?”

Eilan offered a small smile in return. “All right.”

“The fuck’s a Bog Unicorn?”

“As far as I can tell an undead horse with a sword through its head.”

“That’s badass,” the Iron Bull said approvingly. “Good call, Cullen.”

“Thank you, and when… If you’re willing, Eilan, I’d like to listen to you sing or play.”

“Probably playing. I can sing well enough but it’s…” He sighed as Bull glared at him again. “Bull…”

“Eilan.”

“Honestly, Bull.”

“You agreed.”

“I shall regret it for the rest of my days, but fine. I’ll play. And I might sing. And it’ll be good enough.”

“There you go.”

“He isn’t allowed to say bad things about himself when you’re around?” Cullen asked.

“Oh, he’s allowed. It’s just that if he does, I’ll leave.”

“A clever stratagem.”

“Thank you.”

Eilan cleared his throat. “So that’s it then. I mean, the rest we’ll learn as we go. I’d like… That is, I’m looking forward to it provided there can be a little less of this.” 

“Maker, I couldn’t handle much more of this,” Cullen insisted. “I don’t have any other secrets of any kind. I have no desire to keep anything else from you, and I can’t be with someone who I don’t share my decisions with. I understand.”

“Good,” Eilan said firmly. He reached out and briefly took Cullen’s hand in his. “I can’t… I can’t be sorry for my reaction, but I am grateful to you for being so open. I am glad you were able to tell me these things. It was brave and good of you, Cullen. It really was.”

Cullen nodded. “You shouldn’t be sorry anyway. I want to know what you’re feeling and thinking. Even if we were to just be friends, I would want you to be honest. As for my sharing, it was important. I would not want to lose your respect or your good opinion anymore than I would my role in the Inquisition. I hope that, if nothing else, you can believe that.”

“I can,” Eilan gently replied, “and I believe everything you said.”

Time would allow Cullen to prove himself both to himself and to others. Eilan didn’t mind that notion, but he had meant what he said earlier. He could not have many more conversations like without having to give up on their being anything more than friends. Still, he was hopeful. The times they spent together weren’t full of conflict or confrontation. They’d held hands and held each other before. It had been rather perfect. He truly enjoyed time spent with Cullen even if their working relationship, in Eilan’s mind, was very much a work in progress.

“I think that’s everything unless you have something to add?” Eilan asked, looking up at Bull. 

It had occurred to him that while he’d learned much about the Qunari, he really had never thought to ask if there were any secrets, dark or otherwise. But it was different than with Cullen, which honestly was something of a relief. Bull was more like Varric. Whatever was left to be shared, it wasn’t meant to harm anyone else, let alone Eilan. Eilan thought -and he couldn’t be sure he was right-- that whatever it was could only hurt the Qunari himself, and that was… 

Eilan didn’t like that at all. He gently took his hand from Cullen’s grip, cupping the Bull’s cheek. Something he hadn’t tried before although Bull had done it to him a number of times. 

The Iron Bull kissed his hand. “Nah. I kind of like being easy to figure out.”

“You’re complicated. There’s a lot to you,” Eilan protested. 

“Yeah? Then don’t worry. I’ll find other ways to be interesting, I promise.”

After that, the discussion ended. Eilan had hugged Cullen and Cullen had returned it, murmuring another gentle apology. And then a thank you. Both of them were tired, and although he hadn’t enjoyed it at all, Eilan could see that they’d needed to have… Well, he supposed it had been an argument. 

Bull didn’t suggest otherwise once Cullen was gone, but he didn’t seem exactly happy about some of what had happened. “You’re not a mess,” he said when Eilan finished his soup. “Not any more so than anyone else. Even if you were, it wouldn’t matter. Not to me.”

“I’m sorry I said that. I was angry and I shouldn't have been.”

“You can’t hold back and let this stuff eat away at you. You should say things, all of the things you want to say. You should let me in here,” Bull said, touching Eilan’s chest. His heart.

“You would... want that?”

Bull raised an eyebrow. 

“Sorry. Stupid question.”

“Really stupid. Let me in there. And in here,” he added pointed to Eilan’s head. “And I’ll do the same. Gotta say you’re getting the better deal with this. Mine’s a lot less noisy.”

Eian smiled. “And your heart?”

Bull grunted. “I guess that’s a bit different. Mine’s harder to find.”

“I doubt that. I mean, if everything about you is big, shouldn’t your heart be too?” 

The Qunari seemed a little thrown off by this. He stared at Eilan until the mage blushed and looked away. There was obvious innuendo in what he’d said. Maybe that was why? But the Qunari did have a heart and Bull wasn’t as subtle about it as he clearly hoped. 

“You’d let me it find it?” Eilan prompted.

“What makes you think you haven’t already?”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was originally going to come up with a fic posting schedule but I guess I'm going to be doing it as often as time/writing permits. Currently that seems to be daily. I have a lot of fic written out already.
> 
> I'm still planning on covering the game so rest assured there's way more to come. Obviously that won't mean every part of it and I'm hoping to add to the main plot points when possible. I am covering a decent amount of Inner Circle quests though because I think it would be important. This includes but is not limited to the quests for Cullen, Bull, Dorian's first personal quest, Solas' spirit friend, and what Cassandra's learns from the Book of Secrets. I'll probably babble about that more on my tumblr at some point in the near future.


	14. Chapter 14

*

By the next morning, Dorian’s letter was burning a hole in Eilan's pocket and… well, he felt that he could tell Dorian about this latest development. As odd as it was, he was coming to accept that, among the people who provided him with the most comfort, were a Tevinter mage and a Qunari spy. This wasn’t to say he’d tell Dorian everything. He had done shared the details with Bull, but what Cullen had shared and gone through was private. 

Without Cullen there, he wondered if he’d been too harsh or unkind. He supposed not, but he hated the idea of the other man being in pain. Of suffering even if it was better to suffer without lyrium than it might have been to suffer without it.

He must have been thinking too loudly for when he finally located Dorian, he was in the courtyard with Cullen. They were playing chess. Possibly a leisurely game. It was difficult to tell.

“Gloat all you like,” Cullen was saying. “I have this one.”

“Are you sassing me, Commander? I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Why do I even-- Inquisitor.” Cullen was on his feet in a second.

“Leaving, are you? Does that mean I win?”

Cullen sat back down, but his attention was still on Eilan.

“Or does this mean you’ll distract him, Inquisitor?”

“It means you ought to behave,” Cullen suggested.

“Where is the fun in that?” Dorian considered Eilan, smirking a bit. Eilan, for his part, was having a hard time looking away from the Tevinter’s bare shoulder. “Or would you care to distract me?”

“No, and lest you forget… We’re the ones leaving in the near future,” Eilan reminded Dorian. “Shouldn’t you be packing?”

“Already done,” Dorian said. 

“Are you two playing nice then?”

“I’m always nice. The Commander just needs to come to terms with my inevitable victory." Dorian looked across the table at Cullen. "You’ll feel much better.”

“Really? Because I just won,” Cullen said with a chuckle accompanied by a boyish grin, “and I feel fine.”

Dorian scowled down at the pieces before rising to his feet. “Don’t get smug. There’ll be no living with you.”

“I need to talk to you,” Eilan said as Dorian moved past him.

Dorian stopped. “Were you… looking for me then? I’d assumed...”

Eilan blushed faintly. “I…”

“Find him later, Inquisitor,” Cullen suggested. “There will be no living with him if you desert me now. Would you care for a game?”

“I don’t… That is, I know what chess is, of course, but I’ve never played.”

“We could teach you,” Dorian offered. “How would that be?”

“It would be fine save for the fact that I already feel like what I know, if condensed down to liquid form, would barely fill a goblet.”

Dorian tutted. “I’ve never heard such nonsense. In fact, the chief reason behind this little venture is that we both play and no one else seemed interested.”

Eilan glanced at Cullen who nodded. “Oh.”

“I realize I have other duties to attend to--”

“You should take time for this,” Eilan said. “There’s no reason not to.”

“Right. Thank you, Inquisitor.”

Dorian cleared his throat and Eilan realized they’d both been smiling at each other in an awkward if happy sort of way. “Would you prefer the Commander teach you on his own?”

“You don’t have to leave.” 

“I don’t have to stay either.”

“You might as well stay,” Cullen pointed out. “That way the Inquisitor will have someone to play against.”

“Me?” Dorian asked.

“He stands a better chance of winning considering how abysmally you cheat.”

“Very well.” Dorian moved away to fetch a chair. He set it down next to Cullen’s and patted the seat. “Here you go. And I don’t cheat. When one cheats, one typically wins.”

As the game progressed, Dorian spent a decent amount of the game, swatting gently at Eilan’s hand and telling not to put his rook there. Or that he couldn’t move his queen like that. Cullen pointed out various options available to him as he considered his moves.

“Where did you learn to play, Dorian?” Eilan asked towards the middle of the match. 

Dorian’s hand fumbled with the pawn he’d been considering. Only slightly. Something Eilan would have missed if he hadn’t been glancing over at the Tevinter mage.

“My father,” he said quietly. “That was quite a long time ago, Inquisitor. I outgrew that particular teacher. I learned much of what skill I possess on my own.”

Eilan wanted to apologize. He wanted to apologize and burn the letter in his pocket. Instead he nodded, touching Dorian’s fingers. They were still twitching slightly, debating what piece to move.

“Tch, I’m perfectly fine. Away with you,” Dorian said at the same time as he let his fingers wrap around Eilan’s. For an instant. Then they were gone. “Are you trying to distract me?”

“Is it working?”

“Better than you’d think.”

Eilan grinned. “Maybe I won’t be terrible at chess after all.”

“You can’t successfully flirt your way to victory like that. Not if the board still remains on the table when you’re done.”

“I can knock the board off the table if you want?”

Cullen laughed at that. 

Eilan colored slightly, eying the board uncertainly. “What? I could...”

Which only made Cullen laugh harder. 

Dorian shook his head, chuckling. “Ah, Inquisitor. I forget just how sweet and innocent you are.”

“I am not,” Eilan insisted, finally taking his turn. “What about you, Cullen? Where did you learn to play?”

Cullen smiled, looking down at the board. He nodded in approval at Eilan’s choice. “As a child, I played this with my sister. She would get this stuck-up grin whenever she won-- which was all the time.” He looked up at Eilan as he continued: “My brother and I practiced together for weeks. The look on her face the day I finally won was… Between serving the templars and the Inquisition, I haven't seen them in years. I wonder if she still plays.”

“You have siblings?” Eilan asked curiously.

“Two sisters and a brother.”

“Where are they now?”

“They moved to South Reach after the Blight. I do not write them as often as I should. Which isn't to say I won't return your letters just that... I haven't a gift for it."

And there was so much Cullen couldn't tell them, wasn't there? Eilan frowned thoughtfully, looking down at the board. Maybe he could write to them in time. He could let them know their brother was well and was of invaluable service to the Inquisition. 

"See, everyone has something they're terrible at," Dorian put in. "Except me. I'm rather flawless."

Eilan chuckled, looking up at him. “You are, aren’t you?”

Dorian’s eyes narrowed as he smirked. “That’s very dangerous, Trevelyan.”

“What is?”

“Agreeing with me about how perfect I am.”

“I’ll take that risk. Do you practice in case you see your sister again, Cullen?”

“Not entirely but it is a good reason,” Cullen murmured. “Perhaps when I do see her, you can meet her. She could give you far better advice than I. And I’d like for you to meet Mia and the others.”

Dorian snorted. “You two are surprisingly adorable. One can only hope it lasts, but then one also hopes you aren’t keeping whatever you have a secret.” 

“No. At least…” Eilan frowned thoughtfully. “Should we?”

“Maybe but we’re not,” Cullen said firmly. “No sense in it. I’ve… denied too many things in my life already. Letting you be one of them is… I’d prefer not to.”

“Discretion, however, is not always a bad thing given that anyone with half a brain could figure it out,” Dorian observed, crossing his arms. “Speaking of… Bull is all right with this?”

“Of course,” Eilan said, letting Cullen take his hand. 

“The South is such a fascinating place,” Dorian mused, moving another chess piece. “As for other things to avoid, neither one of you should take up Wicked Grace.” His eyes narrowed as his tone grew flinty. “Know this, Commander. You had best behave yourself. Otherwise you’re going to want to avoid me at all costs.”

“Understood,” Cullen said. 

“Aren’t you going to threaten me with the same?” Eilan asked.

“Hardly. You wouldn’t willingly allow any one of us come to harm, let alone a partner,” Dorian said with a small smile. 

“You’re far too thoughtful to do anything that would constitute harm,” Cullen agreed. “It’s not just because you’re sweet. You would never let things get that out of hand when it comes to other people. Although I could see you misbehaving.”

“You ought to, Inquisitor. Mischief is good for the soul.”

Eilan nodded, accepting this. And also wondering if maybe he ought to solicit Sera for some advice on harmless pranks to pull. 

*

Eventually the game wound down to a close. Or, more precisely, a draw. Dorian insisted there was no point in making Eilan’s first time terrible. Cullen and Dorian had both laughed over that. Eilan had contemplated sliding out of his chair and under the table. After that, the Commander gave a amiable nod and a request for a rematch to Dorian. And, to prove his point from earlier, he kissed Eilan’s cheek. Then Cullen left them.

“Does it bother you?” Eilan asked Dorian as they moved away from the chess table. They roamed the grounds in the courtyard, which were surprisingly quiet. “Forgive me. I never thought to ask and it occurs to me that I should have.”

Dorian sighed, shaking his head as he led Eilan to a stone bench. “Yes and no. I would never suggest that you see the error of your ways. There’s no fun in that and...well, perhaps it isn’t an error... But I will admit that to me it is all very strange.”

“That I’m happy?”

Dorian shook his head. “Other people have had multiple partners. It’s just that until I said anything at all… It honestly would never have occurred to you that what you have with Cullen, what you have with Bull, or what you could have with both of them is anything to be ashamed of.”

“They bring me comfort and happiness. My only worry is…” Eilan sighed. “Bull says I’m not allowed to see what I can give them as too little or not enough. But I do worry.”

“This is all very new to you,” Dorian said gently. “So new that I really admire your resolve to make it work. As for comfort and happiness, you’ll give that to them. In fact, I’m sure that you already do.”

“I guess it all comes from not being very religious,” Eilan managed. “My not noticing. It wouldn’t be accepted as a good thing, not by everyone. Even if it was only one person…”

“Those who will take most notice are the ones who will defend your right to do as you please. I was not wrong when I said you are very sweet and very innocent. You are viewed as such elsewhere. And since you’re the Herald, that firmly cements you as a chaste and devout. Most people here or out there will ever imagine you’re so very open-minded and affectionate.”

“Until Varric’s book comes out.”

Dorian laughed. “I can’t wait to see that. Will you sign Mother Giselle’s copy and can I watch?”

Eilan sighed heavily.

“Ah, the look I myself get whenever the Revered Mother is mentioned. What’s on your mind?”

“Can we...Um.” Eilan picked up his chair, bringing it over to Dorian’s. 

“Is it that bad?”

“There’s a letter you need to see.” Eilan pulled it out from the inner pocket of his tunic. 

“A letter? Is it a naughty letter? A humorous proposal from some Antivan dowager? Perhaps a sweet love poem from you? In which case, Eilan, I should tell you that not every man is susceptible to your charms. I doubt that I’m entirely immune, but some might say that two people are more than enough in the way of bedfellows.”

Eilan blushed. “I…”

“I’m teasing. Hand it over.”

“Dorian,” Eilan said, still hanging onto the parchment, “it’s from your father.”

“My father. I see. And what does Magister Halward want, pray tell?”

“I know he wants a private meeting with you. Away from Skyhold. That he is concerned and the he preferred you not to know.” 

“Not to know.”

“He felt you would not come. Mother Giselle felt I could lead you there.”

“Did she?” Dorian said darkly. 

“As if I would bring you somewhere and not tell you why,” Eilan said quietly. “As if…”

Dorian put a warm hand on Eilan’s shoulder. “As if you’d lead me into danger the way you yourself had been. I understand. You need not think on it. Allow me to insist that you don’t.”

Eilan nodded, looking down. “As to the letter’s actual contents, I couldn’t say as I have not read it. I can barely bring myself to give it to you.”

“I’ll take it then.” Dorian considered this for a moment before gently removing the letter from Eilan’s grip. “There. See? You didn’t give it to me at all, and now I suppose I ought to read it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Your apology is rejected,” Dorian said but his tone was kind. “I won’t have it. This isn’t your doing. You’re simply the messenger. I suppose no one ever stops to ask themselves why they leave everything up to you?”

“Better it comes from me than Mother Giselle.”

“There is that, yes.” Dorian sighed heavily then read the letter over. He handed it back to Eilan. “You ought to read it.”

Eilan glanced over its contents.

Dorian leaned back against the wall behind them, one arm going around Eilan’s shoulder, as he scowled. “I know my son. What my father knows of me would barely fill a thimble. This is so typical. I'm willing to bet this ‘retainer’ is a henchman. Hired to knock me on the head and drag me back to Tevinter.”

“You think your father would actually do that?”

“No… Although I wouldn’t put it past him. Can we meet this so-called retainer together and in the near future? If it’s a trap, we escape and kill everyone. You’re surprisingly good at that. If it’s not, I send the man back to my father with a message that he can stick his 'alarm' in his ‘wit’s end.’”

“There seems to be bad blood between you and your family.”

Dorian laughed. “Interesting turn of phrase. But you’re correct. They don’t care for my choices, nor I for theirs.”

“That’s… I don’t understand why they wouldn’t be proud of you. Is it because you wouldn’t get married? Because you left?” 

“In part,” Dorian said quietly. “So what do you say?”

“We’ll go meet this retainer, and, Dorian… I’ll protect you if it comes to that.”

The Tevinter mage gave him a puzzled look. “You really would.”

“Of course.”

“Hm. Thank you. I wonder how much my father paid this man to wait around just in case I showed.” Dorian sighed heavily. “We’ll find out soon enough.” 

*

The Hinterlands weren’t exactly on the list of places he needed to get to as soon as possible, but it was basically on their way to the Fallow Mires. His advisers had agreed that remaining in Ferelden and locating missing soldiers was a decent enough plan while waiting for Hawke. 

There were several smaller tasks to accomplish, so Eilan focused on those until the middle of the afternoon. It was nice to be away from Skyhold, assisting villagers with all manner of things like flowers for a widow’s grave, clearing out bandits, and locating a lost scout.

There was also, of course, plenty of herbs and plants to gather. He colored slightly as the Iron Bull and Sera watched him. Blackwall had been waiting for them in a clearing. He’d gone on ahead, offering to scout but more than likely wanting to do something besides watch Eilan locate materials, but it wasn’t his fault if they didn’t care as much about how nice it was to find some supplies. And then suddenly it felt like everywhere he went there was always something else just begging to be gathered.

“Bull, can you just lift me up for a second?” he asked, spotting iron on one of the rock faces. It was just right out of reach and they’d just come down from the cliff. The thought of climbing it again was not appealing.

“You want me to hold you? Okay.”

“No. I want you to lift me up towards the ledge there.”

Bull sighed. “Do you really need more of that stuff, boss?”

“Yes. Please?”

“Fine.” Bull picked him up, large hands circling his waist, and he did his best to gather the iron quickly. 

“Oh look! There’s more further up.” 

“So there is.”

“I shouldn’t leave it behind.”

Bull’s grip tightened, his large fingers warm against Eilan’s waist. “This is about as high as you’re going to get with me holding you.”

“Then... Maybe you could toss me?”

“Toss you.”

“Yes.” 

“For some iron of which we have a fuckton.”

“We do not.”

“Look, even if I wasn’t lugging around the current fuckton of iron and at least twelve of every plant available here… I’m not tossing you up the mountain.”

“Come on, Bull,” Eilan cheerfully pleaded. “It would make things so much easier. I’m not walking around this entire mountain again to try and find a way up. It wouldn’t be worth it.”

“Right, because it’s iron, and who gives a shit.”

“We might need it.”

Bull grunted. “We will never need this much.”

“You said you’d throw me,” Sera pointed out. “Didn’t seem concerned then, did you?”

“I wanted to throw you at the enemy in a really badass way. Not at a rock. And you weren’t the Inquisitor. ‘Sides, we’re out of potions. Can’t have him hitting a rock and bashing his skull wide open.”

“Right, that’s why,” Sera said with a knowing smirk. “Got nothing to do with you being sweet on him.”

Bull grunted. “Or maybe that’s just one of many incentives to not chuck the Herald of Andraste at some rocks.”

“But it’s just… It’s right up there.” Eilan squirmed a bit, reaching out and trying to get to the cliff. Maybe he could climb up on his own.

Bull dragged him down to his chest. He snorted and finally did gently toss Eilan but only over his shoulder. “There. It’s like I said earlier when we had to find all those damn blankets. Too much nature and all this helping people isn’t good for you.”

“Put me down, Bull.”

The Qunari laughed, walking forward. “Sure. Once we get away from all these plants and rocks. You can’t go a single step without stopping to pick flowers.”

“That’s not what I’m doing. And… They’re not all flowers.”

“Fine. You can’t go a step without engaging in very manly gardening. We have a world to save. And my life’s too short for this boring bullshit.”

“We sealed several rifts.”

“Yeah. I’m still not over that one by the waterfall.”

“That one… was pretty bad.”

“That one was fucking awful.”

“But we helped people.”

Bull chuckled. “Don’t you have somewhere to be? With Dorian?”

“Oh. Right. We should get back to camp so… Put me down?”

Bull did set him down only to pick him right back up. “On second thought, no. Let’s get to camp first. I saw how you were eying that...whatever it is over there.”

“Crystal Grace. Oh, Bull, we’ll need that. That’s not like the other plants. It doesn’t grow everywhere.”

“We’ll come back for it someday.”

Blackwall was waiting for them on the other side of a large group of trees. “Why are you carrying the Inquisitor around like a sack of potatoes?”

“Because the Inquisitor is a kleptomaniac.”

“Fair enough.”

Eilan scowled at them, a bit relieved when Bull put him down a slight distance from camp. Sera giggled and ran on ahead. Blackwall eyed them both with something approaching amusement before following her.

“If it helps, I am sweet on you,” Bull said, leaning down and resting his forehead against Eilan’s. He put his arms around the mage. “And I like holding you.”

Eilan huffed, leaning against him. “It helps. Vaguely.”

“So you two are going to this meeting. Even with the whole trap thing being a possibility.”

“Yes. You can still wait outside.”

“Yeah, but there’s more than one exit.”

“I really don’t think it’s going to be all that dangerous. It’s just some messenger from Dorian’s father.”

“A Vint’s a Vint.”

“And if we need help getting information from this retainer and he refuses to cooperate, I’ll call you inside.”

Bull chuckled. “You always give me the fun jobs.”

“Just trying to be a good boss.”

“You’re the best.” Bull glanced up and around before focusing on Eilan again. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“All right.”

“Can I kiss you? Properly? On the lips?”

Eilan colored slightly. 

“If you ask me if I really want to though… I’m going to get really annoyed. Might have to retract the offer.”

“No,” Eilan insisted, blushing a bit more at how quickly he’d responded. “Um. That is… No. I won’t ask that. And yes. Um. Please do.”

Bull tugged him closer, leaning down and kissing his lips.

Eilan closed his eyes, focusing on how it felt and melting a little when the Qunari pulled him flush against him.

Bull offered up a rumbling sound of approval, brushing his fingers through Eilan’s hair when the kiss was over. “Thank you,” he said.

“You’re welcome.”

“And, uh… Can I ask for your help with something? There’s no rush exactly. But I’d like to discuss it when we’re back at Skyhold. It’s business-related.”

“Ben-Hassrath?”

“Yeah. So it might be of interest to you. In an official capacity.”

Eilan blinked, a little alarmed. 

“Hm?”

He looked down, fighting the urge to wring his hands. “It’s… Um. It’s not…”

“Breathe and ask.” 

You’re not going to be recalled back to Qunandar or relocated somewhere else?”

Bull blinked. “Recalled?”

“Ordered or…” Eilan took a deep breath in and out. “I know this isn’t a job but you have a job. And that probably should come first, I get that. But I don’t think I could handle it if you left me right now.”

“Wow. I guess you were really determined to find a stupid question to ask me,” the Qunari muttered. “I wouldn’t kiss you and leave you. That’s… That is so fucked up that I’m trying really hard not to take offense to it but... Shit, kadan. You honestly think I’d do that to you? That anyone would?”

Eilan blinked, realizing suddenly how what he said must have sounded. Like some sort of accusation. Like an admittance of mistrust and doubt that he’d never expressed before. “I don’t think you would. It’s not a thought. It’s a concern. A worry.”

Bull kissed him again. “There’s a lot of things I’ll do but that’s not one of 'em. If I had to leave, if that was the case, I would have told you in a completely different way. Not like this.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh. So if there’s more worries and concerns where that one came from, don’t hold back. Tell me so I can do something about them, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Especially something like that. You worry about me leaving a lot?”

“It’s not like that,” Eilan insisted. “I know you want to know more of my thoughts and feelings, but I’m worried you’ll leave if you knew all about them. I know what you are and I know what I am. Even if it doesn’t bother you here and now, I know you’re part of the Qun and I know I’m not and… I’m afraid to say… I’m afraid that so much of what I would say won’t be what you want to hear.”

“I want to hear anything you have to say.”

Eilan pulled Bull down into a kiss, desperately hoping that was true. “You can fix things. In me. I have these places in me that are… Cole said they were cracked and festering. That they become pearls of pain. I feel like sometimes that’s all I am. But then I’m with you. I’m with you and it’s not like that. Even that first night you shook them loose and took some of them away.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, and I can’t… It would be so hard to lose you. I know I shouldn’t need you this much and that I shouldn’t need… I shouldn’t because if you know, you’ll leave. If you know how much of me is… splintered and fractured and…” He closed his eyes, painfully aware that he was crying. The hot tears ran down his cheeks and he wiped at them furiously. He didn’t want to cry, but he couldn’t help it. “If you knew how many… You’d see it was never going to stop, that I would never run out of them. You wouldn’t stay.”

“Fuck me. You’re the one who should leave. I’m a fucking asshole.”

Eilan couldn’t help it. He laughed, blinking rapidly. “You’re not an asshole.”

“Fine, hypothetical me is a shitheel. I don’t like him. I’m picking you up now.”

“You don’t have to.”

“No, I don’t,” Bull agreed, scooping Eilan up into his arms. He cradled him gently and kissed him soundly. “Fucking ridiculous.”

“I--”

“No. I get to talk now,” the Qunari said. “You think I’m going to leave because of the pain you’re holding onto, but I’m staying for it. I’m staying until it’s all gone, and after it’s gone, I’ll still stay. You’re not just a bunch of fucking pain pebbles or gems or whatever. I’m staying for you. I’m staying for all of the other things that you are.”

Eilan sniffed, forcing himself not to do anything but listen. To let the words in and to try and keep them there. Bull sounded fiercely determined and more than a little angry, but it wasn’t at him. He wasn’t sure who it was directed at, but he knew it wasn’t at him.

“So if you think I’m going to leave you? Leave before we deal with that fucker Corypheus? Leave all of the kisses and touches and looks and moments that are mine behind? Fuck that. Think again, kadan. I want you, and I live to kill bad guys. I’ve earned every single one of the things I get from you. Come here.”

Eilan smiled, putting his forehead to Bull’s and nuzzling the Qunari’s nose. “I’m here,” he said gently. “I’m already here, Bull. I don’t think I could get much closer to you.”

Bull kissed his cheek, tightening his arms around him. “Then stay here with me, would you?”

Eilan nodded, focusing on the feel of Bull’s hands in his hair. It was only later when he was on his way inside of the Gull & Lantern with Dorian that he wondered what ‘kadan’ meant. 

*

The tavern was entirely deserted. Empty beer mugs and empty tables. No music of any kind. Light filtered in through the wooden shades on the windows and two torches were lit on either side of the door through which they entered.

Dorian moved further into the room. “Uh-oh. Nobody’s here. This doesn’t bode well.”

“Dorian,” came a slightly accented voice. An older man was standing on the staircase. 

“Father. So the whole story about the 'family retainer' was just... what? A smoke screen?

"Then you were told. I apologize for the deception, Inquisitor. I never intended for you to be involved in this."

"Of course not. Magister Pavus couldn't come to Skyhold and be seen with the dread Inquisitor. Not when the Inquisitor is such a shameful example of a mage and your son is more or less the same. What would people back home think? So what is 'this' exactly, Father? Ambush? Kidnapping? Warm family reunion?"

The magister sighed. "This is how it has always been."

"Considering you lied to get him here, Dorian has every right to be furious," Eilan pointed out.

"You don't know the half of it," Dorian angrily replied. "But maybe you should."

His father sighed. "Dorian, there's no need to--"

"I prefer the company of men. My father disapproves."

"I... what?"

"Did I stutter? Men, and the company thereof. As in sex. Surely you've heard of it."

"I've... You never said. And I’ve heard of it."

“No, the Herald of Andraste? I am shocked and scandalized,” Dorian said in a biting tone. “And as I’ve pointed out before, you’re not exactly subtle.”

Dorian’s father frowned. “I should have known that’s what this is about.”

“No,” Dorian said, turning back to look at him. “You don’t get to make those assumptions. You think what you like about me, but you don’t know me. Not anymore, and you know nothing about the Inquisitor.”

"This is not what I wanted."

"I'm never what you wanted, Father. Or had you forgotten?"

"That's... A big concern in Tevinter, then?" Eilan asked, trying to understand why Dorian hadn't said. Even if Eilan hadn't preferred men himself, he couldn't imagine finding it problematic. At least not so much as to drive the Tevinter mage away.

"Only if you're trying to live up to an impossible standard. Every Tevinter family is intermarrying to distill the perfect mage, perfect body, perfect mind. The perfect leader. It means every perceived flaw-- every aberration--is deviant and shameful. It must be hidden."

"You're not an aberration," Eilan said, looking over at Dorian's father. "You're ashamed of... "

The magister looked down.

"That's what all of this is about? Who Dorian sleeps with?"

"That's not all it's about," Dorian said grimly.

"Dorian, please, if you'll only listen to me."

"Why? So you can spout more convenient lies?"

Silence.

"He taught me to hate blood magic. 'The resort of the weak mind.' Those are his words. But what was the first thing you did when your precious heir refused to play pretend for the rest of his life? You tried to... change me."

Dorian's voice cracked slightly and he sounded so young, so vulnerable that Eilan moved closer to him. Not close enough to touch. Not yet. Changed by blood magic. To... Eilan swallowed hard, refusing to show anything to the other man in the room that wasn't a determination to keep Dorian safe and do whatever had to be done to prevent further damage.

"I only wanted what was best for you!"

"You wanted the best for you! For your fucking legacy! Anything for that!" Dorian stalked away, moving to a table, leaning over it with his hands braced in front of him.

Eilan gently and slowly reached out, touching his hand briefly. Maybe there was something to salvage here. Maybe it was up to him to make that happen, but he couldn’t do it. Not honestly. If Dorian’s father had tried… No. Even if the older Tevinter mage regretted it now, it was unthinkable to try and ask Dorian to make amends with him. And Dorian’s feelings were all he could care about. “I think it’s time we left.”

“I agree.”

Dorian’s father watched them go, but he didn’t say a word.

We’ll see you back at camp,” Eilan said to the Iron Bull before tugging Dorian away. 

The Chantry was an odd choice, but it was nearby and just as quiet as the tavern had been. They sat down in a pew towards the back of the building. 

Dorian said nothing, looking at his hands. Eilan said nothing, gazing at the candles lining the altar.

"I wouldn't put on a show,” Dorian said at last. “Marry the girl. Keep everything unsavory private and locked away. Selfish, I suppose. Not wanting to spend my life screaming on the inside." Dorian stretched out in the pew, letting his arm go around Eilan’s shoulders. "He was going to do a blood ritual. Alter my mind. Make me...acceptable. I found out. I left."

“Can blood magic actually do that?”

“Maybe. It could have also left me a drooling vegetable. It crushed me to think he found that absurd risk preferable to scandal. Part of me has hoped he didn’t really want to go through with it. If he had, I can’t imagine the person I’d be now. I wouldn’t like that Dorian.” 

“Are you all right?”

“No, not…” Dorian looked at Eilan and blinked. “ _Kaffas_. Maker, what you must think of me now?”

“What do you mean?”

“Everything I’ve said. You keep listening but you keep wincing and closing your eyes. You look… Eilan, forgive me.”

"This is about what you went through. It's not about me, and I know that. It wasn't like that for me. I wasn’t a drooling vegetable. I wasn’t screaming on the inside. I was..." Eilan closed his eyes. 

“You were?”

“I was silenced. I was in a forced state of peace. I was dead on the inside. I think. There really wasn’t anything there. At least not the way it is now.”

Dorian pulled him closer, into a hug. “Do you want to… I’d listen, Eilan.”

Eilan sighed heavily. “All right. The templars woke me up and said it was the harrowing. So I went. I went and I sat down and… There was nothing I could do. They told me about how had my parents pushed for it. That they had spoken to the Knight-Captain then the Knight-Commander. I was dangerous, so very dangerous, and they had four other children to think of. That they couldn’t stand to see me again for I had run home several times since I'd been sent to the Circle.” 

Eilan risked a glance up. Dorian was frowning severely, nose scrunched as it always got when he was angry. 

“I hadn’t done anything to them. I never hurt anyone. Not my parents and certainly not my brothers and sisters. I never would have. I know how stupid that must seem, but I wouldn't have.”

“I believe you.” 

“After... I said I understood,” Eilan sighed heavily. “That they’d been right. That their actions were part of their being devout and loyal to the Chantry and I could find no fault in them. That I was better. So they’d given up some coins and told some lies to make me something they could forget altogether... What was there to complain about? What was I actually missing now that I was Tranquil?”

“And here you are now.”

“Here I am. Me again. What your father did… I could never forgive that, but I’m sorry if I made you leave sooner than you might have wished. I didn’t know what else to do for you. I was tempted to punch him, I'll admit... Only I’m not sure I really should just going around knocking out Tevinter magisters left and right. Even if it would make some people extremely happy.”

Dorian smiled thinly. “You did the right thing. He had nothing left to say that I particularly wanted to hear. You do, Eilan. Don’t ever doubt that I want to hear everything and anything you’d care to say to me.”

“That's true for me too. Anything, Dorian. And everything. So. Can I ask why you didn’t tell me about…”

“Initially, I assumed the reactions here would be only slightly better than my father’s. Then I couldn’t because… Well, why would you want to know? It's hardly something I was just going to bring up out of the blue. Not seconds after telling you we were sort of cousins and you deciding I was going to be your friend all but instantly. Not that I'm complaining, but that didn't make me want to immediately burden you with my troubles.” 

“I just want to make sure you know it wouldn't have changed how I see you. It wouldn’t. Even if I didn't happen to like other men myself... It’s all just part of who you are. And I like you.” 

Dorian chuckled. “That much I picked up on, but thank you, Inquisitor. It’s nice to know someone likes me as I am.”

“More than that, Dorian. I think you’re very brave.”

“Brave?”

“It's not easy to abandon tradition and walk your own path.”

“Says the trailblazer himself.”

Eilan smiled. 

Dorian sighed quietly, pulling Eilan closer and kissing the top of his head. Then he let him go. “Thank you, you remarkable and resilient boy.”

“Dorian…” 

“Don’t ‘Dorian’ me. That was a perfectly innocent thing to do, and I meant nothing by it. Although…" Dorian glanced around them thoughtfully. "Perhaps I should not have done so in a Chantry.”

“Maybe not,” Eilan agreed. "But I think we're safe. For now."

“Hm. Rather than test our luck, let’s get back to camp where I shall drink myself into a stupor. It’s been that sort of day.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Using 'kadan' is both a big deal and also not a big deal at all. The word means a variety of things but obviously using it is significant, especially considering who Bull is using it in regards to. It is too soon? I don't know. It just sort of made sense for it to end up in this chapter.
> 
> I haven't actually written anything in the last two days and I do have a decent amount of fic left to post, but I might not post on Saturday and just wait until Sunday. We'll see how much I get done today.


	15. Chapter 15

*

They received news of Hawke’s arrival as they made their way to the Fallow Mires. Eilan couldn’t put up locating the missing soldiers any longer, which meant Hawke would have to wait. It was unfortunate but unavoidable for there was a great deal of disturbing things to contend with.

Having Cole and the Iron Bull in the same party had been interesting if disconcerting. Bull did not speak much of his past, and the little glimpses Cole offered were upsetting. How Bull was constantly thinking of ways to kill people was unsurprising but it still made Eilan uneasy. He supposed it was what all of them did though. After all, they killed a lot of demons and people.

Discussions with Solas raised other concerns as well, or at least listening to them debate the way things were under and away from the Qun, made him wonder about things he had no desire to wonder about. Question things he didn’t wish to question. He knew about the reeducation, Seheron, and the rest. He knew about how the Iron Bull felt about the Qun. But was that enough? Did he know enough about Bull to feel as strongly as he did about him?

All in all, every discussion made Eilan tense. He still didn’t know very much about Saarebas save what Dorian and Solas had told him. He was pleased that the Iron Bull wasn’t as simple as he wanted people to think, and obviously the past hardly seemed to be a source of happiness, but there was a great deal that Bull kept to himself. What did that mean in terms of a potential meeting with his own people? In terms of Bull remaining with them? And whoever he had been before… Was he still that person now or did he plan on becoming that person again? Wasn’t that what spies did? And Eilan wasn’t sure he wanted the person Bull had been. Not when that person would have been more or less a stranger.

Then, towards the middle of the trip, Bull and Dorian had an exchange of words that had gone very, very poorly.

“Does it still bother you to travel alongside a Vint?" Dorian had asked. 

Bull had snorted. “From up here you people all kind of look the same to me.”

“I'm also a mage. Would you prefer me bound and leashed?”

“I'd buy you dinner first.”

“Hopefully before you sewed my mouth shut.”

“Depends how much you keep yapping.”

Eilan’s temper had been steadily creeping up on him. He’d been trying to ignore his rising irritations and frustrations, but this conversation robbed him of what little control he possessed. “Enough!” he snarled. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Bull?” 

Bull blinked down at him, large hands curving slightly before lying flat against his sides. “Boss… I wasn’t serious.”

“Then maybe you should never says things like that. Better yet, never speak again if that’s all you can come up with. Because if you so much as look at Dorian or Solas or any other mage here and so much as think something like that, I will end you.”

Bull opened his mouth but closed it when Eilan growled at him. 

“Don’t. Don’t you say a word to me. Not now. Not after that. You just look at me, and you nod yes. Yes, you understand. Yes, I have been crystal clear with you. Yes, you are going to never tell us again about whatever shitty, terrible things your kind do to mine. Nod. Now. Do it.”

Bull had nodded, hanging back a pace when they started moving again.

After that, Eilan spent most of his time with Dorian, Cassandra, and Blackwall. Moving from the marshes to a more sunlit landscape helped, but he couldn’t shake off the gloom. 

“I’m sorry,” Bull said on a number of occasions. He sounded looking oddly uncertain for such a massive and loud man. His expression remained impassive.

Eilan had ignored him during the first few attempts at a reconciliation. From the afternoon Bull had made the remark to the night they finally made camp in the Hinterlands again, Eilan pretended Bull wasn’t there. At least, until he fell asleep and then he couldn’t help moving his bedroll closer. Smiling when he felt the Qunari move closer in response and when heard Bull start to snore. But Eilan couldn’t help wishing he could figure out a way to feel the way he did without it hurting. It was probably impossible.

In morning and in the Hinterlands, finally done with at least one type of mire, Bull said: “I know it’s not just about what I meant to do. It isn’t just about who I said it to. It’s about that I said it at all. That I thought that was something I could just throw out there like it wouldn’t affect anything. Obviously it would hurt you. I should have known that, and I’m sorry. I can’t take it back, but I would now. I would.”

“I know,” Eilan managed, feeling more than a little relieved. Bull meant what he was saying, that much was obvious, and it was comforting.

“We can talk about it.”

“We just did.”

“All right. But, Eilan, can we… Can we not be done?”

Eilan glanced up at him.

“I don’t want to be done with you. But I fucked up. I have to own that, so if it means you’re done, I need you to say so. We stop when you want us to. I meant that too.”

Eilan hesitated then pulled Bull into a hug. “We’re not done. I don’t want to stop.” He had no interest in stopping, and maybe that was the problem.

*

At Skyhold, Eilan visited everyone again. There was much that needed to be done and it seemed everyone required some sort of whirlwind tour of Ferelden or Orlais or both. He agreed to every request proposed to him. He really wanted to help and it was a relief that so many of his companions had opened up to him.

After that, Eilan raced up the battlements, unable to reign in his excitement. He had saved meeting Hawke for last and it felt really nice to have something to look forward to.

Varric snorted when Eilan joined him. “You wanna catch your breath there, Inquisitor?”

“I’m good.” And there she was, walking down the stairs towards him.

“All right then. Inquisitor, meet Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall.”

“Though I don’t use that title much anymore.”

“Hawke, the Inquisitor. I figured you might have some friendly advice about Corypheus. You and I did fight him, after all. But play nice. The kid’s a big fan.”

Hawke smiled faintly. “Did Varric tell you all sorts of things about me?”

Eilan smiled. “All of them were good. It was when I was… After the Fade.”

Hawke looked him over carefully, studying him briefly. “You’re all right now then?”

“Yes.”

“Varric said you still weren’t sure how it all worked out?”

“Not yet.”

“Right. Fate of the world falling neatly on your shoulders and you’re still managing?”

“Yes. That is, as best I can.” Eilan didn’t want to lie to Hawke, after all. 

Hawke nodded before crossing her arms. “Good. Sometimes that’s all they can ask of you. Now. You’ve already dropped half a mountain on the bastard. I’m sure anything I can tell you pales in comparison.”

“Oh. I don’t know. You did save a city from a horde of rampaging Qunari.”

“Hardly applies. I don’t see a horde of rampaging Qunari. Just that one down there. Granted, I wouldn’t want to get on his bad side, but…”

Eilan smiled. “He’s basically a horde unto himself. But he’s a friendly one. Anyway, you’ve fought Corypheus before.”

“Fought and killed. The Grey Wardens were holding him and he somehow used his connection to the darkspawn to influence them.”

“Corypheus got into their heads," Varric said. "Messed with their minds. Turned them against each other.”

“If the Wardens have disappeared, they could have fallen under his control again.”

Eilan sighed heavily. The whole situation just got better and better. “Along with the Venatori. And the red templars. And an archdemon. It’s just as well that he left his horde of rampaging Qunari at home.”

Hawke laughed. “Fret not, Inquisitor. I didn’t come this far just to give you bad news. I have a friend in the Wardens. He was investigating something unrelated for me. His name is Stroud. The last time we spoke, he was worried about corruption in the Warden ranks. Since then, nothing.”

“Corypheus would certainly qualify as corruption in the ranks,” Varric pointed out. 

“But there was good news?” Eilan asked.

“Yes. Nothing turned into something just a short while ago,” Hawke assured him. “Stroud told me he’d be hiding in an old smuggler’s cave near Crestwood.”

“If Corypheus has corrupted the Wardens, it may be too late to help them.” Although Eilan hoped it wouldn’t be too late, particularly for Blackwall, but certainly for Stroud and any of the others. "Isn't your brother a Warden?"

"He's safe enough. Unhappy, sulky, and giving everyone a hard time, but that's Carver," Hawke said with a trace of fondness. "As for Corypheus, I’ll do whatever is necessary to stop him.” 

“As will I,” Eilan agreed. “I appreciate the help.”

Hawke sighed heavily. “You should know that I’m doing this as much for myself as for you. Corypheus is my responsibility. I thought I’d killed him before. This time I’ll make sure of it.”

“I understand.”

“Yes, I know. In the mean time, I’ll stay here and I’d be glad to assist you.”

Eilan couldn’t help it. He grinned. “You will? Really?”

Hawke blinked. “Yes, really. Varric, what exactly did you tell him?”

All the same, Hawke was more than willing to answer his questions and then to launch into a very entertaining summary of her trip to Chateau Haine. Overall Eilan’s admiration of the Champion was not diminished upon meeting her. 

*

Eilan found Bull with Krem in the training grounds, which wasn’t completely surprising. Only he thought the Qunari seemed a bit in need of something to beat up, and Eilan was a little concerned for the Tevinter facing off against him. 

“Ah, come on, Krem! I’m working my ass off to get you to see that move!”

“You’ve still got plenty of ass left, chief. Uh, your worship.”

“Glad you came by,” Bull said gruffly. 

Eilan nodded. “I thought we ought to discuss--”

“The letter I got from my contacts in the Ben-Hassrath. Red already verified it.”

Eilan raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to discuss this alone? That is, no offense, Krem...”

Krem smiled as he panted, taking the moment to recover. “None taken.”

“Not like I was hiding it from my boys. Besides, right now, I need to hit something.”

Eilan nodded again. That much had been obvious. 

“You know they’ve got training dummies, chief.”

“The training dummy might actually defend itself against the shield bash.”

Eilan laughed quietly.

Bull glared at him balefully, mostly because he’d been on the verge of smiling. “Anyway, the Ben-Hassrath letter…”

“I was under the impression that they just wanted you to send reports.”

“Yeah, so was I. But the Ben-Hassrath have been reading my reports. They don’t like Corypheus or his Venatori. And they really don’t like red lyrium. They’re ready to work with us. With you, boss. The Qunari and the Inquisition joining forces.”

Eilan nodded, considering this. He wasn’t sure he liked the idea, but he couldn’t bring himself to dismiss it out of hand. “That would be an unprecedented offer, if I could believe it to be legitimate. I’m not sure that I do.”

"Now, ordinarily that would be the way to go. But they've identified themselves. They're not running a game on you. They've found a massive red lyrium shipping operation on out the coast," Bull said, raising his shield.

"They want us to hit it together," Krem said, raising his as well. "Talking about bringing in one of their dreadnoughts. Always wanted to see one of those big warships in action."

Bull knocked him over and quickly too. "Did you see that? Go get some water." After Krem left, he added: "They're worried about tipping the smugglers, so no army. My Chargers, you, maybe some back-up."

“What does this alliance get us?”

“Well, they wouldn’t use the word ‘alliance’ if they didn’t mean it. Naval power. More Ben-Hassrath reports. Qunari soldiers pointed at the Venatori… It could do a lot of good.”

"You don't seem entirely happy about this," Eilan quietly observed.

“No, I'm good. It's, uh... I'm used to them being over there. It's been awhile.”

"Don't Qunari want to extend their reach to the whole world?"

"Yeah. Just didn't think I'd see it."

"And?"

"And..." Bull sighed. "Look, the Qun answers a lot of questions. It's a good life for a lot of people. But it's a big change. And a lot of folks here wouldn't do so well under that kind of life."

“Folks like me.”

“Yeah.”

This wasn’t exactly news. Eilan knew he wouldn't manage under a system that would have him bound and silenced or worse. Perhaps that was why the alliance seemed... Well, he couldn’t trust it. And if he agreed to it, Eilan wasn't sure what that meant not only for the Inquisition but for what he had with Bull. He felt a bit anxious, but he wasn’t about to say to say as much. Not when the Qunari seemed to be feeling similarly if for slightly different reasons.

“I guess it's not like we're converting,” Bull said with a half-hearted shrug of his shoulders. “This is just us joining forces against Corypheus. On that front, I think we're good."

"I don't suppose it'll hurt anything. Perhaps the Inquisition could use some help from the Qunari. Other Qunari."

"Well, you've enjoyed my help. Somewhat, anyway."

Eilan smiled. "Yes, but then... you're you."

Bull smiled back. "Good. I'll pass on word to Cullen and Red. We can set up the meeting whenever you're ready."

“You want to join us for a pint, Inquisitor?” Hawke called out. She was heading towards the tavern with Varric in tow. 

“Yes. That is, if… um… could the Iron Bull come with?”

“I suppose so. Probably for the best to have a chaperone along. Has he ever had one?” Hawke asked Bull. “A pint, that is.”

“No," Bull admitted, "but then he’s got a lot of firsts ahead of him.”

Hawke offered up a wan, wistful smile. “Lucky you.” And who exactly she meant that for wasn’t entirely clear.

*

Eilan had his one pint then left as the others began a game of Wicked Grace. Drinking too much had seemed like a poor decision given how he’d been feeling. He didn’t want to share his thoughts with Bull. Not when all of his misgivings seemed off somehow. Not if he was just worrying for no real reason. Definitely not in a tavern full of people trying to forget their woes while having a bit of fun. Besides, he hadn’t even seen Cullen since he’d returned.

Cullen's tower was empty and Leliana wasn't in hers either. He thought to check in on Josephine first since she probably knew where the others were. Only she wasn't around either. He heard laughter coming from the war council chambers so he headed inside.

“Are you… Oh dear. Dare I ask what's going on?”

Leliana and Josephine were leaning against the war table. Cullen was sitting in front of it on a bench, looking cross and uncomfortable. And he wasn’t wearing armor. In fact, he wasn’t wearing much outside of breeches. It was pleasant view. More than pleasant. Between the scars and his build and the way he was… Eilan shook his head slightly to clear it as he took in other details.

Cullen was wincing slightly as Solas applied a series of poultices and bandages to his arms and his right shoulder blade. Eilan wished he was a better healer but his powers and focus were too new and too raw for that.

“The Inquisition now has plenty of bees,” Leliana cheerfully explained. “Although perhaps we shall now require a beekeeper.”

“Whether or not we have a beekeeper is not the problem,” Cullen groused.

“Oh, Cullen. I’m sorry,” Eilan said, coming over and gingerly patting the man’s hand. “You’re… Will you be all right?”

Cullen smiled, his ears seemed to be turning a faint pink. “You needn’t concern yourself, Inquisitor. It’s just some bee stings.”

“I didn’t realize you’d personally go to the apiary. No wonder I couldn’t find you.”

“I didn’t,” Cullen assured him. “Honestly, Inquisitor, when would I have found the time? I simply attempted to oversee the arrival of the hive not that long ago.”

“Our soldiers had a difficult time finding a home for it,” Leliana said with a smirk. 

“There appear to have been some issues with hand-eye coordination,” Solas added in a vaguely amused tone.

“Was it Mabry?”

“If only everything could be blamed on that man,” Cullen said wistfully. “But no."

“Speaking of coordination, perhaps you should sit down,” Josephine said, all but herding Eilan towards a chair that she'd set up in front of Cullen’s bench.

Eilan blinked. “I’m fine. Really.”

“Nonsense. I will get you tea. Leliana will assist me. Solas, I'm certain, has other matters to attend to.”

Leliana smirked but followed her friend out of the room.

Solas eyed Eilan curiously as he gathered up what remained of his healing supplies. “I shall leave you to recover, Commander. Inquisitor.”

Once Solas was gone, Cullen glanced at Eilan, frowning. “She isn’t wrong. You do seem a little...”

“I, um... I may have had one small drink.”

Cullen laughed. “Oh, I see. So. Was meeting Hawke all you hoped for?”

“Yes. Only she seems… She does a good job hiding it but she seems lonely.”

“She’s lost quite a bit,” Cullen mused. “Enough to make anyone quite lonely.”

“Does it always end like that, do you think? Friends and lovers going away. Or being left out when the next adventure begins?”

“I sincerely hope not. I hardly see myself going anywhere that’s too far from where you are. Assuming I manage to behave myself. And you’re not allowed to die so I think we’ll muddle through somehow.”

Eilan smiled, leaning in and kissing the scar over Cullen’s lips. “I’m sorry about the bees.”

“It’s quite all right.”

“So there’s nothing I can do? I’d thought to kiss you again. Several times, really, to make it up to you but…”

“And suddenly I’m in a tremendous amount of pain.”

“Oh dear.” Eilan smiled. He hesitated and then moved onto Cullen’s lap. He put his arms around Cullen’s neck and kissed him again. “I missed you, you know.”

Which was of course when Leliana and Josephine came back.

“I told you,” Leliana said with a grin. “I told you so, Josie.”

“As you may recall, I did not disagree. I only did not think things had progressed so far.”

Eilan attempted to move away but Cullen held him firmly in place. So he settled for burying his head against Cullen’s warm, bare shoulder. It only served to make him blush all the more. He really hadn’t meant for things to look how they did.

“Ladies,” Cullen said after clearing his throat. “We thank you for your invaluable assistance, your keen insights, and ceaseless contributions, but we’d like the war room. We’re in need of a private meeting. Important matters and all that.”

“Right you are, Commander.”

Cullen laughed as they left. “Oh, sweetheart. You’re such an adorable shade of crimson now.”

“It’s just… I only meant to kiss you and… Maker. What they must think...”

Cullen kissed his cheek. “Well, they wouldn’t be entirely wrong.”

“No,” Eilan said, trying to shake off his embarrassment. He sat up, moving back to his chair. From there, he returned Cullen’s kiss and sighed. “I suppose they wouldn’t be. And... it’s not my fault.”

“No?” Cullen asked, deciding that it was wiser to slip on a shirt than wait for another potential audience to convince him of the need for it.

“No. I had a pint, you see.” 

“That you did. Without me, I would like to point out. Although I suppose one pint will hardly be your last.”

“Sorry, but you’re entirely too handsome. Particularly without all that armor on.”

“Then one couldn’t possibly blame you for climbing into my lap unprovoked and kissing me. You needn’t worry anyway. I was only hoping for more kisses. One for each of my stings if I could convince you of the need for it. Oh. And I’m quite certain that I missed you more.”

Eilan smiled, kissing Cullen again. “I’m sure you had plenty of work to keep you company.”

“As much as it could.”

“Everything is well? With…”

Cullen nodded. “It could be better. There are times when it is hard to concentrate or hard to want to do anything at all. I feel like no matter how far I run from it, my past always finds me.”

“We could discuss it.”

Cullen sighed, putting his arms around Eilan. “We could. I meant to tell you more about Samson, at any rate.”

“I’m still not sure what… I’m not sure how much I interacted with him at the Conclave. Just that I encountered him.”

“As have I,” Cullen said. “When I arrived in Kirkwall, Samson and I shared quarters. He seemed a decent man, at first. Knight-Commander Meredith later expelled him. The official charge was 'erratic behavior.'"

"Official?"

Cullen sighed, letting Eilan go. 

“That bad?” Eilan asked.

“Yes,” Cullen said. “I know you can handle what I am about to share just as I know I cannot shelter you from everything, but I would spare you this if I could. Because this will upset you. Samson smuggled letters between a mage and his sweetheart. Eventually he was caught-- that’s why he was cast out of the order. The mage was…”

Eilan closed his eyes. “Made Tranquil.”

Cullen sighed heavily. “Yes.”

Eilan swallowed hard, but he moved closer. After a moment’s hesitation, Cullen’s arms back went around him. “Over love letters. I imagine the official charge for the mage was something far worse and more compelling.”

“‘Corrupting the moral integrity of a templar.’”

“Is that what we do? Is that what you think I do to you?” 

“No, Eilan. I might have thought so when I was much younger. but it’s been a long time since I thought anything was as simple as mages bewitching templars into committing dark, nefarious acts that rendered them morally bankrupt or soulless. You have many charms and all of them work on me... But I realize it’s because I like who you are and I like that they do. Still, I can’t justify or explain away Kirkwall. I can’t pretend such a thing is even possible. Not to myself. Certainly not to you."

“I know. I just wish I understood why what happened to us-- to all of us-- had to get so ugly, so tragic, before anything changed. How can I keep things from ever getting that way again, Cullen? Because I can’t go back. I just couldn’t. I couldn’t let what happened to me happen to anyone else, and if it happened… To me... If things went back to the way they were and I lost who I am now...”

“Never,” Cullen said angrily. “Look at me.” Eilan glanced up. “That is never going to happen. Not only because I care about you or because I would kill anyone who tried --never mind what Bull would do. But because things cannot go back to the way they were before. They can’t. We both know that. We both do.”

Eilan managed a shaky nod. 

Cullen kissed his hair. “You’ve changed so much for all of us, and you’ve helped change me. But, sweetheart, I was already changing in Kirkwall. In the end, it wasn’t about templars or mages or who was actually right anymore. It was about putting an end to paranoia and madness. To what people were willing to do in the name of either one while claiming it was for a just or divine cause. To keep that from happening again, I will do anything. How could I even permit myself to touch you otherwise? I barely deserve you as it is.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is very much the truth, but back to what we were discussing... I am uncertain as to what became of the mage. Maddox.” If Cullen was being careful with his words for the sake of the mage in his arms, Eilan didn’t mind. “I can tell you that Samson ended up begging and stealing on Kirkwall’s streets. There he committed crimes ranging from smuggling to conspiracy, but he managed to evade the order's justice. And now he serves Corypheus as his loyal general."

Eilan shook his head. "I don’t understand… What happened in between those two things?"

"Samson had a chronic lyrium addiction. He spent every last coin buying it from local smugglers. Perhaps Corypheus flattered his vanity, gave him purpose as well as lyrium. Perhaps that's all it took."

"Is it always so horrible? So simple?"

"How do you mean?"

"It sounds like Samson had a miserable life. That he didn’t--” 

“He had choices after his expulsion. He could have found another path,” Cullen said in a firm tone that bordered on harsh. “What I don't understand is how he become so powerful. Even with red lyrium, Samson's glory days were long behind him.”

“His glory days hardly sound like they amounted to much. It started in love letters and it ended in lyrium,” Eilan said quietly, looking down. “Is that all you need to ruin someone's life?"

"I certainly hope not."

Eilan looked up, paling. “Oh, Cullen, I didn’t... Forgive me.“

“There’s nothing to forgive. I’m not Samson, and while I can understand you pitying the man he was, you can’t forget what he is now.” 

“No. Not when he’s decided to work with Corypheus. And from what we’ve learned he’s directly involved in the mining and dispensation of red lyrium to other templars.”

Cullen nodded. “Also, and please don’t take this the wrong way... But, Eilan, understanding Samson or Corypheus or anyone else isn’t as necessary as stopping them. I know how hard it is not to look at the hows and whys of what people do whatever it is they do to themselves and to others, but there will be time for that later. Not while we’re confronting these... people. You can force answers out of them when they’re brought before you to be judged.”

Eilan made a face.

Cullen laughed. “I know, but speaking of judgments… You might want to see to that soon. There’s a bit of queue currently.”

Eilan rolled his eyes before smiling. “Right, Commander. Certainly, Commander. Anything for you, Commander.”

Cullen smiled back, a little relieved. “There is some good news. Thanks to those smuggling letters you found, we’ve managed to learn the main source of the red lyrium. It's located in the Dales, near a town called Sahrnia. Destroying the mine there will cripple Samson's operations. Not to mention that it will provide a loss Samson won't soon forget.”

Eilan kissed Cullen again. "Excellent work. I'll investigate the mine when time permits."

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- This chapter is a bit on the short side, but the Demands of the Qun is up next so that chapter should be a lot longer. A lot continues to change as I write about later quests, but a lot of game dialogue still works and remains relevant. I've been trying to keep a balance though so hopefully that's still working out.
> 
> \- [I'm currently debating aspects of later plots and chapters](http://cruelestmonth.tumblr.com/post/107147635555/share-your-silence-babble). Feel free to weigh in over on my tumblr or here in a comment.
> 
> \- I also managed to get more writing done yesterday in the third google doc so there will most certainly be an update tomorrow.


	16. Chapter 16

*

Crestwood required scouting, which made revisiting the Storm Coast a slightly higher priority. It also, Eilan thought guiltily and happily, meant that Hawke would stick around awhile longer.

“We are going to make sure their definition of ‘alliance’ is the same as ours, yes?” Dorian asked, sniffing distastefully as it began to rain.

Eilan smiled, unable to stop himself from being amused by Dorian’s perpetual discomfort with Ferelden. From its weather to its drinks, Dorian was constantly complaining about something. “We are.”

“What about the definition of the word ‘trap’?” Blackwall asked. “Have we given any thought to that?”

“We did. Why do you think I brought you and Cassandra along? If anyone can keep me from getting in over my head, it’s the two of you. Plus there were those artifacts back there.”

Blackwall smiled.

Cassandra shrugged her shoulders. “All the same, it does seem suspicious.”

“Not to mention quite disconcerting when one remembers that these people believe that the Iron Bull is the brains of the operation.” Dorian laughed. “Can you imagine?”

Bull grunted. “I wouldn’t bring the Inquisitor with if I was walking you into a trap, Vint. And I wouldn’t put nearly this much effort into it.”

“One can only imagines the effort you’d make for him.”

Bull snorted. “I’d make plenty of effort, but I wouldn’t plan a trap for him. I’d take him to a field of elfroot and let him wear himself out gathering up that shit until the stars came out. Then we’d have a surprise picnic by candlelight or something.”

“Very romantic. Until you knocked all of the candles over and set the whole field ablaze.”

“Well, yeah, he’d still have a good time.” 

Finally, they arrived at the hilltop.

“All right, our Qunari contact should be here to meet us,” Bull said.

"He is," a voice said. An elf in green armor moved to join them. "Good to see you again, Hissrad."

"Gatt! Last I heard, you were in Seheron!"

"They finally decided I'd calmed down enough to go back out into the world."

Bull grinned, turning to Eilan. "Boss, this is Gatt. We worked together in Seheron."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Inquisitor. Hissrad's reports say you're doing good work."

"Iron Bull's name is... Hissrad?" Eilan asked, slightly baffled.

Gatt smirked. "Under the Qun, we use titles, not names."

"My title was 'Hissrad,' because I was assigned to secret work,” Bull explained. “You can translate it as 'Keeper of Illusions' or..."

"'Liar.' It means liar."

"Well, you don't have to say it like that."

Eilan worked hard to have no reaction to the way Gatt had all but gleefully thrown in the second translation. This shouldn't have bothered him. What else was a spy if not a liar? And yet... And yet, of course, it bothered him. Was this the title or name Bull preferred? What did it mean that he hadn't been told of it prior to this moment?

"I look forward to working together," he said, striving for politeness. A part of him longed to say something else about the reports Bull had given, but he couldn’t. Not without sounding spiteful or potentially getting the Qunari in trouble that wasn’t really necessary. 

"Hopefully this will help both our peoples,” Gatt agreed. “Tevinter is dangerous enough without the influence of this Venatori cult.”

"Yes. Filthy, decadent brutes, the lot of them. I'm certain life would be much better for all of us under the Qun," Dorian said in a bristled tone.

"It was for me, after the Qunari rescued me from slavery in Tevinter. I was eight. The Qun isn’t perfect, but it gave me a better life.” 

“Yes, one free from all that pointless free will and independent thought. Such an improvement.”

Eilan turned to look at his friend. “The Imperium and the Qunari both have their problems, Dorian.”

“Fair enough, I suppose.”

“I’m not here to convert anyone," Gatt insisted. "All I care about is stopping the red lyrium from reaching Minrathous.”

"With this stuff,” Bull said, “the Vints could make their slaves into an army of magical freaks. We could lose Seheron... and see a giant Tevinter army come marching back down here."

It all sounded bad, really, but it was the slaves that Eilan truly pitied. Why was magic always wielded so cruelly against those who could do so little in their own defense?

"The Ben-Hassrath agree. That's why we're here. Our dreadnought is safely out of view, and out of range of any Venatori mages on shore. We'll need to eliminate the Venatori, then signal the dreadnought so it can come in and take out the smuggler ship."

"What do you think, Bull?" Eilan asked.

"Don't know. I've never liked covering a dreadnought run. Too many ways for crap to go wrong. If our scouts underestimate enemy number, we're dead. If we can't lock down the Venatori mages, the ship is dead. It's risky."

"Riskier than letting red lyrium into Minrathous?" Gatt asked.

"I could have crushed any Venatori resistance with the Inquisition's main forces," Eilan said. If the risk was so significant, why were so few people here? And if he'd known about more of the details, he could have given them to Cullen who could have given him a much better plan. "Why not use them?"

"Because then the Venatori would have seen you coming and used run. They'd schedule a new shipment for later, and our spies might not know when or where. This is risky, yes, but it's our best chance to destroy the shipping operations permanently."

Then why did something feel so off? He asked a few more questions about the operation’s details then Eilan said: “Let’s go hold up our end of this bargain then.”

"My agents suggested two possible locations the Venatori may be camped to guide the shore. There and there. We'll need to split up and hit both at once."

Right, that was why. Because the situation still felt like a trap.

"I'll come with you, boss. Krem can lead up the Chargers. Let me fill him in. Come by when you're ready to move."

Dorian inclined his head and Eilan walked over to him. “Are we honestly attempting this?”

“I understand your concerns, and nothing’s been determined... but we could use an alliance.”

“You understand as much as you could,” Dorian allowed. “You don’t share my concerns because you don’t know any better. Because your only Qunari is a bit...slow or strange or both. 'Hissrad' means liar, you know that now, but do you know what 'saarebas' means? Dangerous thing. Do you know what mages who live outside of the Qun are called? 'Bas Saarebas.' A thing twice over. Still dangerous.”

“Don’t, Dorian.”

“Don’t what? Don’t teach you slightly more Qunlat? You’ve already learned some today. I just thought perhaps a second lesson was in order.”

“If the alliance won’t benefit us, it’ll be called off. It’s worth a try to protect innocent lives and have a little extra aid from spies and ships. Regardless, we will never be under the Qun. Let them try and they’ll understand just what a dangerous thing I can be when provoked.” 

Dorian sighed but he seemed satisfied by this. “Very well.”

“I do not yet know if I want an alliance or believe it’s possible, but, Dorian... Kindly do not tell me my trust is misplaced when it comes to Bull. I trust him as much as I trust anyone else. I am not wrong about him anymore than I am not wrong about you or the others.”

“But you could be. Does that never concern you?”

“Of course it does, but I can’t always think about that. I can’t go around being suspicious of everyone who was different from me. If I did, I’d never leave my room at Skyhold. Because everyone is.” Without waiting for any kind of response, Eilan stalked away from the other mage. He went back to Gatt.

“Just waiting on you and Hissrad-- Or 'Iron Bull,' I guess."

"You knew the Iron Bull back when he fought in Seheron?"

"Yes. He led the group that freed me."

Of course Bull had. It was sweet to think that even before he'd been sent to Orlais, Bull was constantly saving people. Only at that moment, the notion was as baffling as it was comforting. He couldn't have gained much by saving Gatt. Krem was a good fighter and a good man, but Bull hadn't gotten anything out of the ordinary from saving him. And he'd lost an eye in the process.

"I was a Magister's slave, and when the Magister went to Seheron, he brought me along. For company. Iron Bull and his men attacked my master's ship and killed him, as well as his soldiers. Hissrad set me free."

"And you decided to start following the Qun after that?"

"What do you think? I had just watched a giant, horned warrior kill the Magister who hurt me."

Eilan shook his head. “No, I’m not questioning it like that. Or at least that wasn’t my intention. It’s just that he never told me about this.”

“One of the few things he hasn’t shared with you, I gather.” Gatt offered up a sly smile. “Sure, Hissrad. Share the secret Ben-Hassrath reports, but keep that bit where you saved the elf boy to yourself.”

"Is Bull going to get into trouble for passing those reports along?"

"The Ben-Hassrath aren't pleased with how forthcoming he's been... But he was one of their best agents. He kept the streets clean in Seheron longer than anyone before him, or after. He fought until it nearly killed him. The Ben-Hassrath trust him enough to accept how he joined the Inquisition, even if they don't like it. You must trust him too if the other reports we receive have any truth to them.”

“Other reports?”

”Rumors, if you like.”

“Rumors of?”

“I’m not here to convert nor am I here to judge, not really, but a Bas Saarebas?” Gatt shook his head. “It’s one thing for him to vouch for you. It’s another for him to have done... There’s my confirmation. You should be more guarded in terms of your expressions, Inquisitor.”

Eilan’s hands clenched themselves into fists. “Confirmation of what exactly? He’s done nothing wrong.”

“Oh, relax, would you? It hardly matters. The Ben-Hassrath hate to discard a tool that might still have some use for it. That’s why I have a job.” 

“I suppose we all have our uses.”

Gatt shrugged. “I have a temper. Gatt’s a nickname that Hissrad gave me. Comes from gaatlok, the explosive powder in qunari cannons. Hissrad gives everyone a nickname. A way to help, I suppose. He doesn’t know how to stop helping people. Never has stopped.”

“I’m not--”

Gatt tilted his head. “Not like me? Not like the others? Not just some thing a liar decided to rescue? How do you know?”

“Boss,” Bull called out. “Come over here, would you?”

For a moment, it sounded like the Qunari had said ‘Bas.’ For a moment, it was all Eilan could do to keep himself from doing something he’d regret. But Gatt’s facial expression had shifted from slightly smug to neutral once more, and a fight would solve nothing. 

“Not just yet,” Eilan forced out. Striving for calm, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Let’s stick to the matter at hand, shall we? No one’s actually detailed how an alliance with the Qunari will help the Inquisition.”

“The answer to that is above my rank... But the Qunari don't really bargain. They don't know how. I doubt you want Qunari troops stomping around your stronghold, and you're too far away for supplies to be useful. You'd get more use out of our ships, I imagine... and the agents we've got spread across Thedas. We know a lot more than what Hissrad sees in those reports he's been forwarding to your spymaster.”

“Right. I’ll let you know when we’re ready.”

“I await your pleasure, Inquisitor.”

Eilan left him to join the others.

"Once they're down,” Bull was saying, “send up your signal. That'll let the dreadnought know it's safe to come in. Remember, you're gonna want to volley to start. But don't get suckered into fighting at range. They've got mages.”

"It's all right," Krem said. "We've got a mage of our own."

"I'm not a mage!" Dalish protested.

"Get in close and take their enchanter down before he takes over the battlefield."

"He'll be dead before he knows it," Skinner said.

“Just... Pay attention, all right? The Vints want this red lyrium shipment bad.”

Maybe it shouldn’t have mattered, but the hesitation and concern in Bull’s voice… It helped. It made the furious way Eilan felt, the urge to offer up spiteful words, lessen if only slightly. 

“Yes, I know. Thanks, Mother,” Krem muttered. 

“Qunari don’t have mothers, remember?”

“We’ll be fine, chief.”

“All right, Chargers! Horns up!”

“Horns up!”

Bull glanced over at Eilan. "Ready whenever you are, boss.”

“Now’s as good a time as any,” Eilan said, mustering up a smile. Mostly for the sake of the Chargers because they were asking a lot of them today. Because they were a good crew. He hadn’t spent much time with them, but he liked them well enough.

“What's wrong?" Bull asked quietly. He’d noticed. Of course he’d noticed because, whatever else he was, the Qunari was far from stupid.

“Nothing,” Eilan said, turning away from the Iron Bull and his men.

“It’s not nothing. It hasn’t been nothing for awhile now.”

Eilan closed his eyes briefly. “Then it’s not the time. Please, Bull. I have to be the Inquisitor. You have to be… Whatever it is you need to be for this. I’m trying to understand, I really am, but that’s all I can do.”

Bull grunted but let the matter drop. “Right. Chargers, hit ‘em hard and hit ‘em fast! When this is over, drinks are on me!”

“You got it, chief. Your worship. Chargers, double-time! Let’s move!”

*

"You gave your Chargers the easier target," Gatt said, joining them as they headed out. He added something else in Qunlat.

"You think?" Bull asked. He did the same.

"Lower and farther from the smuggler's ship? It's much less likely to be heavily defended." More Qunlat in an amused tone.

"Suppose we'll do the heavy-lifting then. Just like old times." More Qunlat in a hostile tone.

Gatt only chuckled.

"Any chance we could avoid speaking in tongues we don’t all know?" Blackwall asked. “Don’t know about the rest of you, but I was taught that was rather rude.” 

"Yes, do share with the rest of the class," Dorian put in. "I enjoy gossip just as much as the next person."

"Just suggesting that my old friend here develop some manners if he wants to develop an alliance with the Inquisitor," Bull said in a gruff tone.

Gatt chuckled again. “I’m just curious as to what my... mannerisms ought to be. I would hate to be any less successful than Hissrad has been.”

“I could arrange a quiet accident,” Cassandra pointed out. ”Or a loud one if you prefer, Eilan.”

“I could help,” Blackwall grimly agreed. "We did not come all this way for you to be disrespected."

“Maybe after we’ve cleared out the Venatori,” Eilan said, striving for a light tone.

“As you wish.”

“Be careful,” Gatt said as they went further. “My agents said to expect opposition ahead of the main camp.”

“We’ve all done this a few times now, Gatt,” Bull pointed out.

“You’ve been living outside of the Qun for years now, Iron Bull. Just wanted to make sure your reflexes hadn't gotten as soft as the rest of you.”

“Ouch.”

Eilan had never been so happy to have an enemy to fight. He provided the party with a barrier then sprinted ahead, creating a wall of fire in front of their opponents. They all made quick work of the Venatori before stopping to loot.

"You must wish you were back in Tevinter, mage," Gatt said to Dorian. "No soldiers to guard you here. No slaves to wait on you."

"It's the lack of fashion that really strikes fear into my heart."

"You know nothing of fear."

"And do you intend to teach me?"

"Is it to be like this the entire time?" Eilan snapped, turning to glare at both men. "Are we not in the middle of fighting a common enemy? Are you here only to thwart those with a higher sense of purpose? If you cannot be of use, then at least allow us to proceed without you."

"No. I…” Gatt blinked a handful of times. “That is, I realize he serves the Inquisition. The Ben-Hassrath wish an alliance. For now, that is enough."

“If it was enough, you would not need to make it so very conditional,” Eilan said before stalking past them. 

He didn’t say another word as they cleared the next area out, pleased when the rest of them remained mostly silent. It was gratifying in a way that made Eilan feel guilty. Yes, the elf wasn’t being exactly a stunning example of Qunari diplomacy, but considering his life, experiences, and Dorian’s way of being Dorian... Well, it wasn’t right to take joy from causing others unnecessary discomfort. 

"We're clear, Gatt," Bull said.

"Right. Signaling the dreadnought."

The flare went up. 

“Chargers already sent theirs up. See 'em down there?”

“So Gatt was right," Eilan said. "You gave them the easier job.”

Bull smiled. Despite his simmering irritation and lingering unhappiness, Eilan returned it. "There's the dreadnought. That brings back memories."

And it gave Eilan a reason to hope for a successful alliance as the dreadnought made short work of the Venatori ship.

Bull laughed, watching it. "Nice one." Then his face fell as he looked back towards the Chargers. "Crap."

The remaining Venatori forces were heading for the hilltop, and the Chargers were incredibly outnumbered. Not to mention that, in spite of her protests, they only had the one mage. They would fight, of course they would fight, but they’d be slaughtered.

"They've still got time to fall back if you signal them now," Eilan insisted.

"Yeah."

"Your men need to hold that position, Hissrad," Gatt said.

"They do that, they're dead."

"And if they don't, the Venatori retake it and the dreadnought is dead. You'd be throwing away an alliance between the Inquisition and the Qunari. You'd be declaring yourself Tal-Vashoth!”

Eilan closed his eyes. It was quite a decision. From a practical standpoint, the Chargers had to be left to die. Logically, the dreadnought had to be saved for doing so gained much for the Inquisition. But it was not the choice he would make. And as much as he couldn't stand the possibility of watching Krem and the others die, this wasn't his decision. And yet...

"With all you've given the Inquisition and its Inquisitor," Gatt was saying once Eilan started paying attention again, "half the Ben-Hassrath think you've betrayed us already."

Bull was silent.

"I stood up for you, Hissrad! I told them that whatever else you might do, you would never become Tal-Vashoth."

"They're my men."

"I know. But you need to do what's right, Hissrad. For this alliance, and for the Qun. Not for the Chargers. Not for a Bas--"

“Call the retreat,” Eilan said. “This is your choice, Bull, I know that. But if you’re saving them, it has to be now. And if you're not... then..."

Eilan didn't know how to finish that sentence. Not out loud. _If you're not, then who are you?_ he thought to himself. _If you're not, then what has this all been about? If you're not, they're going to die for you. For whoever it is that they thought you were._ And selfishly, he thought, _if you’re not who I think you are, what happens then?_

"Don't," Gaat said.

But Bull was already raising a horn to his lips. "They're falling back,” he said once he’d warned his men and lowered it.

Gatt paced in front of them. “All these years, Hissrad, and you throw away all that you are. For what? For them?” He pointed, but not at the Chargers, he aimed his finger and all of his displeasure directly at Eilan. 

"His name is Iron Bull," Eilan said, not caring if he sounded more than a little relieved.

“I suppose it is,” Gatt said, a bit more subdued.

The rain kept falling and the elf left them there on the cliff. The dreadnought was still close to the shore. With no Chargers to contend with, the mages moved in on it.

“No way they’ll get out of range,” Bull said, staring out at it. “Won’t be long now.”

Eilan slipped his hand into the Qunari’s, worried it was the wrong thing to do. But Bull’s fingers curled around his. “Bull, when the dreadnought sinks…”

“Sinks? Qunari dreadnoughts don’t sink.” Bull ducked backwards as the dreadnought exploded, letting go of Eilan’s hand at the same time. “Come on. Let’s get back to my boys.”

*

There were a few more tasks to run on the Storm Coast for Cassandra, Blackwall, and Varric. Bull seemed out of sorts, but Eilan didn’t have the heart to leave him at camp. 

Cole had offered up his usual brand of help, but it had actually worked if only in a small way. “‘Tama, how will I follow the Qun?’ Her hands, strong but gentle, rubs the stubs where the horns will be. You are strong, and your mind is sharp. ‘You will solve problems others cannot.’ She smiles, but sadly.”

Bull had sighed, staring out at the water. “Looks like my old Tamassran was wrong. Bet she's pissed one of her kids went Tal-Vashoth.”

“Agents with hushed tones. Eyes stinging. Forms to fill out, course corrections. Reduce risk of similar losses. I remember the little boy, too wise, eager to help. Words break in small, secret spaces. He got away. He got away.”

“How could you know that? You've never even met her.”

“Your hurt touches hers.”

“Well, that's, uh, creepy, but... Thanks.”

“It touches him too.”

Bull said. “I thought we already talked about leaving him alone, kid.”

“I’m trying to but it’s loud sometimes. It's loud now. He worries.”

Bull glanced over at Eilan. “Yeah, he does that.”

Shortly after that, Solas had pointed out: “You are not Tal-Vashoth, Iron Bull, not really.” 

“Well that’s a fucking relief.”

“You are no beast, snapping under the stress of the Qun's harsh discipline. You are a man who made a choice... possibly the first of your life.”

“I've always liked fighting,” Bull mused. “What if I turn savage, like the other Tal-Vashoth?”

“You have the Inquisition, you have the Inquisitor... and you have me.”

“Thanks, Solas.”

There was much that Eilan wanted to discuss, but Bull had asked that it wait. He’d asked it so gently that Eilan couldn’t do anything but agree. They still spent their nights together. Bull didn’t seem particularly eager to give up kissing or talking of other matters. If things were quiet, it wasn’t completely strained nor was it silent. Bull just had a lot on his mind, it seemed. So Eilan fell asleep clutching at him while the Qunari remained awake. 

Back at Skyhold, Gatt came to air more grievances, but he departed quickly. Eilan paid little attention to the elf or his final barbs. It hardly mattered.

“So much for that,” Bull said with a sigh.

“I’m proud of you, Bull.”

“Thanks, kadan. You’re late.”

“Sorry, chief,” Krem said as he joined them. Clearly they were still practicing the Tevinter’s shield bash once. “Still sore from fighting off all those Vints. Good to see you, Inquisitor.”

“How did the Chargers come out of the fight?” Eilan asked.

“Just fine. Thanks to you and the chief, we had plenty of time to fall back. Chief's even breaking open a cask of Chasind Sack Mead for the Chargers tonight.”

“Damn it, Krem,” Bull said, shield crashed into Krem’s all but knocking the shorter man over. “That's the kind of thing you don't have to mention to the Inquisitor.”

“Sorry, chief.”

But this time, when the Bull charged, Krem defended himself properly.

"Ah, forget it. You're doing fine."

Still, there were other moves to perfect. Bull asked to meet with Eilan up on the battlements later in the day. After making his rounds, promising Sera he’d handle a noble in Orlais, agreeing to deal with more sources of red lyrium for Varric, and assuring Solas they would locate his friend, that was where Eilan headed.

"You wanted to see me?"

Two soldiers came up behind them. Eilan blinked as one threw a dagger at Bull's chest. He felt his hands turn ice cold even as the Qunari threw an axe back in retaliation.

"Bull."

"I got it."

" _Ebost issala, Tal-Vashoth_!"

Bull threw the second soldier over the battlements, grunting as he watched him fall. "Yeah, yeah. My soul's dust. Yours is scattered all over the ground, though, so..."

Eilan closed his eyes, forcing himself calm. This was hardly anything. Not a big deal or worth being upset over. But he was upset all the same. 

“Sorry, boss. I thought I might need some backup. Guess I'm not even worth sending professionals for."

Eilan opened his eyes, moving over to Bull. "You knew the assassins were coming?"

"Little change in the guard rotation tipped me off."

"Why didn't you tell me ahead of time?" 

"You go through years of Ben-Hassrath training to hide facial expressions while I wasn't looking?"

Eilan glared at Bull then looked away. He knew he was obvious just as he knew Bull wasn't. Somehow the reminder that things were so unbalanced upset him more so than ever. He was readable no matter what. Bull was not unless he wanted to be. And everything seemed far less clear or certain than it once had been.

“See? Like that. If I'd warned you or the guards, the assassins wouldn't been tipped off.”

“Are you all right?” 

“Fine. Hurt myself worse than this fooling around in bed.”

Eilan frowned. "What if they'd used poison?"

Bull caught Eilan's hands before they could inspect the wound. "Oh, they definitely used poison. Saar-qamek, liquid form. If I hadn't been dosing myself with the antidote, I'd be going crazy and puking up my guts right now. As it is, it stings like shit. But that's about it."

If it wasn’t anything then why did it still feel so much like something? Eilan sighed shakily, letting his hands fall to his sides. “I thought the Ben-Hassrath let you go.”

"They did,” Bull said, sounding a little sad. “Sending two guys with blades against me? That's not a hit. That's a formality. Just making it clear that I'm Tal-Vashoth.” He sighed angrily. “Tal-va-fucking-shoth."

"You acted like a Tal-Vashoth for years,” Eilan gently pointed out. “That didn't change you. Neither does this."

"That was just a role."

Eilan forced himself not to flinch.

"This is my life, as one of those... I killed hundreds of Tal-Vashoth in Seheron. Bandits, murderers, bastards who turned their back on the Qun. And now I'm one of them."

"Bullshit," Eilan said quietly. "You're a good man."

“Without the Qun to live by…”

Hey!” Eilan all but shouted. “You're a good man. Even if this is… Even if this isn’t...” He shook his head. “I can’t, Bull. I’m sorry, but I can’t do this right now.”

“Wait, boss.”

Eilan ignored him. He ran off, deciding he was done talking to virtually everyone save for Cullen.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll post another chapter tomorrow. I might skip Wednesday though. It depends on how much writing I get done today.


	17. Chapter 17

*

Eilan found the Commander kneeling in the small Chantry near the garden.

“O Creator, see me kneel: For I walk only where You would bid me. Stand only in places You have blessed. Sing only the words You place in my throat.”

Eilan hesitated in the doorway then moved closer to him. He sank down next to Cullen, leaning against him and stroking the fur on his shoulder. Eilan listened to the prayer, not really hearing the words but finding it soothing nonetheless.

Cullen finished with: “For You are the fire at the heart of the world. And comfort is only Yours to give,” before looking up. “Hello.”

“Hello. I’m sorry if I’m interrupting.”

“You’re not. The war room hardly seemed to time to mention what a sight for sore eyes you were. Your letters, though abundant, were hardly enough. I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too. Was that... I think that was Transfigurations?”

“Yes. The twelfth verse.” Cullen pressed a kiss to his hair. “Tired enough to find me at last, sweetheart?”

“If that need was borne of weariness than I have been tired all day from want of you,” Eilan murmured.

“What a lovely sentiment. Is there something the matter? Or is there something you wished to do with me?”

“What I would like to do is… Not something I should discuss in a Chantry.”

Cullen smiled. “Your quarters or mine?”

“Yours.”

“All right.”

Cullen got to his feet, tugging Eilan up with him. “I think you’re tired from more than want of me.”

They headed out through the garden then through a door that lead to staircases which in turn lead to the battlements. 

“Oh it’s… It’s… Bull.”

“I heard. He’s not taking it well, I imagine, but then who would?”

“There was an assassination attempt. Today.” 

Cullen stopped at the foot of the stone staircase near his tower office. “What? Where?”

Eilan sighed, stopping with him. “The battlements. It wasn’t much of one, he said. And he’s fine, but somehow that just made it all worse. And I’m so confused. How can I be more conflicted now than ever?”

“Not much of one?” Cullen scowled. “He’s lucky he wasn’t harmed although time might change that. By which I mean I personally might harm him.” 

Eilan chuckled briefly. “Well, he was poisoned but... He said he was taking the antidote.”

“So assassins armed with poisoned weapons just came at him-- at you-- in broad daylight?”

“He knew they were coming. Change in the guard rotation, he said. It was half-hearted at best. It seemed to make him sad.”

“I would be sad too if I were such a colossal and reckless fool,” Cullen muttered. “I would also love to know why he didn’t breathe a word of this to me or Leliana but--

“He seemed fine and well, he had me as backup.”

“I would never doubt your abilities, sweetheart… But if Bull wants to field any sort of assassin attempt, half-hearted, amateur, or otherwise, that’s his business. You are the Inquisitor and he should not be endangering-- Hm. No, you know what? I’ll deal with this later when I can yell at him instead. It’ll feel much better.” 

Eilan smiled slightly. “I hope I’m there when you do.”

Cullen smiled back. “Right. So. Back to you. How do you feel about him? Beyond the way you feel at this very second, which is justifiably conflicted and concerned.”

“We don’t have to--”

“Eilan, don’t worry about it. Just tell me how you feel about him.”

“I feel more and more. Everything gets deeper and it gets… It just gets harder. Harder to accept that all the things I don’t know about him could hurt me. It didn’t feel that way before.”

At the moment, it felt as if he’d waded out in deeper waters only to long for the simplicity of the shore. Yet each step took him further out to sea and, no matter what, he had to go forward. The shore was too lonely. If he went back now, Eilan wasn’t sure he’d ever venture out so far again.

“Even that first night, it didn’t feel like those things could hurt me. I thought, ‘There are things I don’t know. Those things could hurt him, that’s all. They can’t get to me.’ But they can. They can, and they do. Even now that he’s stuck here. Or maybe it’s especially since he’s stuck here.”

Cullen took Eilan’s hand in his. “There is much that can hurt him more than it can hurt you. I imagine that he’s hurting at the moment. A bit rattled too, I’d wager. Not from the assassination attempt, clearly, but being declared Tal-Vashoth is quite a blow. Though I suspect that nothing could hurt him as much as you yourself could.” 

“Me?”

“I know feelings overwhelm you. They do the same to the rest of us. I know they can make it difficult to notice anything else, let alone how someone else feels. But, Eilan, he obviously cares about you.”

“I... I know that, but I still don’t know how much of this was pretend or a role. Or how much of it still is. What if it all is? Or was? What if he…” 

Cullen shook his head.

“No?”

“It seems highly unlikely. In fact I would go so far as saying it makes no sense whatsoever. I don’t know if it helps, the Iron Bull is without a doubt the weirdest Qunari I’ve ever met. In many respects, the worst.”

Eilan laughed, feeling guilty all but instantly. “The worst?”

“The worst. Although I shouldn’t like to tell him as much given what happened. Still, it’s… I have to say his becoming Tal-Vashoth seems unsurprising. Over time, we’re all changed by where we are and who we meet, but maybe it was just always this way for him.”

Eilan nodded thoughtfully, remembering what Cole had shared. The little Qunari boy who was scared, who couldn’t handle the darkness. Too wise, too eager to help. _Tama, how will I follow the Qun?_

“Have you met a great deal of Qunari?” Eilan asked, suddenly regretting ever letting Bull out of his sight. 

Cullen tugged Eilan into his arms. “I’ve encountered a wide range in my time. You should have seen the Qunari we got saddled with in Kirkwall. I would love to see what they would have made of him.”

“He is very different then?”

“Certainly. Look at how he is around you. Even when he was working for the Ben-Hassrath, he was doing far more for you than for them. What he’s gotten out of being close to you is you. If anything he gave us more than necessary for you. And it was just for you. From what I’ve observed, he seems pretty satisfied with that.” 

“He does, doesn’t he?” Eilan said thoughtfully, unable to keep from sounding fond. But Eilan was also worried and he didn’t know how to stop because he did care for Bull. More than that. He supposed he was… 

No. Oh no. Was it that simple? How could he fall in love with someone he didn’t understand? Someone who could be so many things at once? Someone who made him feel so safe and yet could doubtlessly render him into a million pieces if he wanted to? And someone he could do the same thing to? Is that what love meant? 

He closed his eyes, struggling to accept this and to remain calm. It was a good thing, wasn’t it? There were worse realizations, surely, than realizing he was in love with anyone, even a Qunari. Maybe especially a Qunari considering all that Bull did and had done for him. Yet dwelling on it right at that moment was exceptionally unfair to Cullen.

“You should allow yourself to care about him as much as you want,” Cullen said gently. “I hope all remains well, I do, but you will feel this way regardless. So allow it. If there’s one lesson I’ve had to learn the hard way, it’s that you can never be completely sure that a bad thing won’t happen. You mustn’t allow that very real possibility to ruin all the very real and good things you could have.”

Eilan kissed Cullen, hugging him tightly. He sighed shakily over the other man’s shoulder. He was grateful and, at that moment, he had no doubt that he was well on his way to loving Cullen too. If he wasn’t there already, but he’d have to sort that out later on. The feelings he already had were exhausting enough. “I don’t want to do that. Not with him. Not with you. You both mean so much to me.”

Cullen ran a hand through his hair. “I know.”

Eilan decided it was high time for a new topic, one that related more specifically to Cullen. “You said you got the letters?”

“Yes. Were my replies… That is, I hope they were adequate.” 

“Short but sweet,” Eilan assured him with a fond smile. “I was so pleased when each one arrived.”

“I ought to thank you for that. Having to respond to your letters actually inspired me to compose more of my own. I wrote to my sisters and my brother.”

“That was good.”

“I’m a little fearful of the replies I will receive given how long it’s been. I… did mention you. Briefly, but significantly.”

Eilan glanced up from Cullen’s shoulder. “Oh?”

Cullen smiled shyly. “Yes.”

“Any details that you’d like to share?”

“Oh, nothing very specific. Just that I found the Inquisitor to be rather perfect in every conceivable way.”

“Except when he’s panicking and over-thinking everything and dwelling on someone else?”

“Even then I find you to be just what I want.” Cullen kissed his hair. “It’s all right, you know. To feel strongly about someone you can’t completely understand.”

“Is it?”

Cullen laughed, kissing Eilan’s cheek. “I’m sure of it. Do you think any of us completely understand you?”

“Is this about the Herald of Andraste thing?”

“No. In point of fact, it’s not even about your being a hero or the Inquisitor. I can’t imagine I’ll ever know exactly what your life has been like. I can admire you. Be proud of you. Feel sorrow or anger on your behalf. Know how right it feels to be with you. And yet… Short of becoming a mind-reader, there’s always going to be something about you that is beyond me.”

“I suppose.”

“It’s the same with me. Until I told you about it, my past was mine and private. Even now that you know, you can’t share in that experience although… Honestly, I rather thank the Maker for that. But you can’t know everything about me. You can’t control everything about me. Would you want to do that just to be sure there would never come a time when I hurt your feelings?”

“No,” Eilan said firmly. “That would be wrong.”

Cullen nodded. “Right. So if you care for someone, you have to trust that they care for you and will try their damnedest to do right by you. You have to have faith that even when you can’t understand their pain or their happiness... When you inadvertently contribute to either one… That you will comfort or support them as best you can. I realize that I have less than any experience with that. But I’d like to do that for you.”

Eilan nodded, working to commit what Cullen had said to memory. “You do and you will. Thank you for… I know you probably didn’t want to spend the evening discussing Bull or my feelings for him.”

“I don’t mind. Obviously I’d rather discuss us, that’s goes without saying. But I don’t mind this. Regardless of the topic of conversation, I have you all to myself right now. That’s rather nice.”

Eilan hesitated and then offered up a hopeful smile. “Um. That being the case… Would you kiss me?”

“Of course.” Cullen smiled as he pushed Eilan back. He followed, putting his arms around Eilan’s waist. Eilan’s back touched the stone wall behind them. They’d kissed before, of course, but suddenly Eilan couldn’t think beyond that moment. He couldn’t even breathe for a second, and for once the light-headed feeling was wonderful. 

“Commander.” 

There was a loud sound of a door nearly banging on its hinges. And someone in armor approaching them. They both froze. Eilan ducked his head slightly as Cullen turned. 

“You wanted a copy of Sister Leliana’s report.”

“What?” Cullen demanded in an extraordinarily hostile tone.

“Sister Leliana’s report? You wanted it delivered right away.”

Eilan truly pitied the soldier even as he felt… well, he liked the way Cullen was standing between them. Cullen’s eyes were narrowed and the way he moved towards the soldier suggested that death was a true and imminent possibility.

Eilan looked down as the soldier looked after at him, savoring the way it had felt to be pinned ever so gently against battlement as they’d almost kissed. Cullen’s eyes closing ever so slightly as they’d looked at one another and Eilan’s knees had felt… weak. He’d thought that was only a thing that happened in Cassandra’s books. At any rate, he couldn’t move and he brushed a hand through his hair to keep from hauling Cullen back to him.

The soldier withdrew, moving further and further away. “Or… To your office. Right.”

Cullen’s scowl disappeared as he turned back to Eilan.

“If you to--mmph.”

And then Cullen was kissing him, gently and fiercely at the same time. Eilan was pressed back against the stone and Cullen’s hands were on his neck, then they were cupping Eilan’s face, drawing him closer.

“You’ve um…”

“Wanted that for awhile, yes. I know we’ve kissed plenty of times but… Was this all right or too much?”

“This was lovely. A bit of a blur once you actually got around to it but…”

“Should we try again?”

“Yes, please. Only can it there be longer ones?”

“Longer kisses?” Cullen asked.

Eilan nodded sheepishly. 

“I think something can be arranged,” Cullen murmured before giving him one.

*

Eventually Eilan left Cullen to his work. The Commander was not particularly interested in sleep although he had been eager to receive and administer more kisses.

Bull was already sleeping when Eilan got to his quarters. He sighed looking over at the Qunari before changing. When he got into bed, Eilan curled up behind Bull, putting his arms around Bull’s chest.

“What are you doing back there?” Bull asked sleepily.

“I, um... I thought I’d hold you for a change.”

“Ah.”

Eilan tightened his grip, kissing Bull’s bare shoulder and listening to him breathe. Whatever Bull was and whatever Eilan didn’t understand, it didn’t matter. Eilan needed Bull. He wanted him. And he loved him.

At some point, he must have drifted off, but he startled awake in the morning. Bull had been leaning down, possibly to kiss him.

They ended up butting heads and for a second Eilan saw stars. He fell back against the mattress, laughing as he winced. “Ow. Good grief.”

“Shit. Sorry.”

“Uh huh. Good morning to you too.”

Bull sighed. “Fuck. I’m just… Fuck. I’ll see you later.”

Eilan huffed, grabbing at the Qunari’s arm. “What? No, don’t do that. I’m fine. It’s fine. Where are you going anyway?”

“How should I know? Out. Somewhere. Nowhere.” Bull sat back down on the end of the bed. The frame groaned significantly. “Weren’t you getting us a new bed?”

“Next time we’re in Orlais.”

“Right.”

Eilan trapped Bull’s arm in his, pulling it and then hugging it against his chest. “I want to say something. I want to, and yet I don’t want to say it at all.”

“Can it be something good?” Bull said quietly, his voice gruff. “Because I really don’t need anything bad right now.”

Eilan kissed Bull’s knuckles. “I want it to be. I hope it is good.”

There was a pause before Bull turned to look at him. “Lay it on me then.”

Eilan sat up, letting go of the Qunari’s hand as he looked at him. “I’m sorry,” he said, forcing himself not to look away. Even if all he got for his trouble was pity or anger, he wanted to see it. 

“I’m sorry," Eilan continued, "because I’m pretty sure I love you now. And it’s too soon. It’s too soon and it’s too much and it scares me. I can’t imagine how it makes you feel… It makes me want you to take all the things I know about you and all the things I can’t and get as far away from me as possible. Or it would if the thought of you leaving altogether wasn’t infinitely worse. I already feel so guilty that now you’re stuck here with me. Even if that’s what I wanted more than anything else. Because I want you to be happy, and I don’t know if I do that for you.”

“That’s what’s going on?”

Eilan managed a nod.

“You love me.”

Eilan looked down at the bedspread. “Yes, and believe me I feel very stupid about it.”

Bull snorted. “I suppose I deserve that. I figured it would happen but… Shit, kadan.”

Eilan looked up. There was that word again. “Kadan. You’ve said that before.”

“I have?”

“Yes. First in the Hinterlands. Several times since then.”

“...Ah.”

“What does kadan mean?”

“Kadan is where the heart lives. I told you you’d find mine because you are my heart. So basically… I love you too.”

Eilan couldn’t help letting out a very indignant gasp. “You asshole!”

Bull just laughed.

“Are you… Ugh, are you serious?”

“Pretty serious, yeah. I mean, kadan can mean all kinds of things but right now it definitely means--”

“What it means is that Cullen is right. You are the absolute worst.”

Bull just laughed harder as Eilan punched his shoulder. “Hey, now.” Bull caught his wrists and pinned him to the mattress. Gently but firmly. “Hey, wild thing, hold up a minute.”

Eilan glared up at him. 

“Hey, listen, okay? I love you.”

“Oh, of course! Now you’ll say it.”

Bull kissed Eilan and smiled down at him. “I would have said something sooner. I thought about it, but for someone so soft and mushy you’re hard to gauge. I wasn’t sure you’d want me to say anything when you were sorting it all out.”

“Sorting it all out?”

“I saw how you looked when Cole said all of that shit. When Dorian was being… Dorian. I saw you when you were done talking to Gatt. I saw you yesterday. You were sorting things out. Sorting out how you felt about me. The conclusion was sort of obvious, but then you told me I was a good man and you ran off. Thought I might have fucked things up again. I wasn’t expecting that.”

“But you’d already called me kadan.”

“I had.”

“You idiot. What if I’d… What if I’d chosen something else and hurt you and I never even knew you felt that way about me?”

“You wouldn’t have. I know I don’t have to worry about my feelings if you’re looking after them. Honestly, boss. No one’s more protective of me than you are.”

Eilan scowled up at him. “What if, Bull?”

Bull grunted. “There is no 'what if.'”

“Pretend there was.”

“Then it was better that you didn’t know. Didn’t feel sorry or obligated or upset. You don’t need that.”

“What I need is you. The reasons why are quite beyond me at the moment.”

“Sounds about right. By the way, you left before I could tell you…”

“Tell me what?”

Bull leaned in, nuzzling Eilan’s neck. “Whatever I miss, what I may regret... This is where I want to be.”

“Here with me?”

“Here with you. So is that all of it?”

“All of…?”

“What’s bothering you.”

“Most of it.”

Bull squeezed his wrists gently.

Eilan sighed. “Dorian took it upon himself to teach me some Qunlat. And your former associate… He figured… Well, it didn’t take much for him to figure out you meant something to me. And I to you, I think. Because I’m obvious. And a dangerous thing. Apparently.”

“You’re not that.”

“But I should be that. To you, shouldn’t I? I’m Bas. I’m a mage.”

“And I’m broken. And Tal-Vashoth.” 

“You’re not broken.”

“I am. Always have been. You just don’t see it or, if you do, you don’t care. You just don’t care and… I’m glad. I really am.”

“Bull…”

The Qunari sighed, kissing Eilan’s forehead gently. “Look, it wouldn’t have mattered what he got out of you. That was a test for me and I was bound to fail. They were expecting something like you, like what I am now. Gatt probably already knew. Even if he only got it out of what you told him, that’s not your fault. Doesn’t matter anyway.”

“It does because I know you wanted to go back.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know if I did. I wanted both things, you know? I wanted to go back and I wanted to stay. I didn’t want to choose, but I had to. I was always going to have to make a decision, and I wasn’t going to let my men die. How was I going to give you up anyway? What you said when I kissed you that first time… I wanted to be that guy you couldn’t possibly go without. Not the jackass who could kiss and leave you. I still want that. Not as a role or a job, but because I need you too. You weren’t wrong when you said I’ve lived like a Tal-Vashoth. I’ve been off like this for a long time now. They knew it already. Deep down, I knew it too.” 

“I’m sorry that couldn’t have both. I can’t be sorry for needing you or that you need me, but I understand what the Qun means to you. I wish there had been some middle road for you to walk down.”

“Me too, but it is what it is. Like Gatt figuring us out. That was just the truth. That doesn’t bother me even if it should. I don’t like being Tal-Vashoth and I could have done without the assassins, but it’s what happened. Only thing I was hoping to avoid was them so much as looking at you and deciding you were a threat. That still worries me.”

“I’m pretty sure we’ll manage. If nothing else, we’ve got each other. That’s something, right?”

“More than something. But if you get hurt… That’s going to be on me.”

“Bull, we’ll be fine.” Eilan tried to pry a wrist free and sighed when he couldn’t. “Will you kiss me, at least? Because I can’t do anything trapped underneath you.”

Bull let him go, kissing his wrists one by one. “Sorry.”

“No it was… It wasn’t bad. Just...um. It made it hard to get to you.”

“Then let me help,” Bull said, hauling him upright and kissing his lips.

*

There was a considerable amount to do in and around Crestwood even before they met with the Grey Warden. In a way it was a relief when they finally located the old smuggler’s cave. Eilan had had his fill of rifts, spirits, bandits, skeletal soldiers, and secrets about the flooded village that once had been. Still, he’d found a perfect maul for the Iron Bull and other crafting supplies. So it wasn’t a completely dismal experience. Just rather depressing as a whole. 

“My contact should be at the back of the cave,” Hawke said when they finally joined her. She patted Eilan’s shoulder as he walked up to her. “You all right?”

Eilan colored slightly. “I’m fine. Busy day but it usually is. We encountered a group of Grey Wardens. They were protecting a villager from corpses out near Crestwood.”

Hawke crossed her arms. "They were likely hunting my friend. They might very well be good men, but they’ve been given bad orders. I'm glad they didn't come looking for people to help in here."

"Yeah, because so many people lurk in the back of dark, dank caves waiting for help," Varric muttered.

“It doesn’t make you homesick for Darktown?” Hawke asked somewhat wistfully.

“No.”

“Off we go then,” Hawke said moving forward. “Come along, Inquisitor. Deep mushrooms can wait.”

“I… Right. Of course.”

“How come when I say it, you take it as an affront to your honor and a challenge to collect ‘em all… But when she says it, you can’t ignore ‘em fast enough?” Bull asked.

“She’s Hawke.”

Bull grunted.

“Cheer up, big guy,” Varric said. “Trevelyan loves all his animal friends equally.”

Cole frowned. “I don’t see any animals. Do you mean all the dead spiders? He doesn’t love the dead spiders, but he does love the Ir--”

Bull cleared his throat loudly. “Hey, so, Cole? Let’s try something new today. Let’s try to see who can be the quietest as they follow the nice lady to her friend, all right?”

Cole shrugged. “All right.”

“What’s wrong? Eilan asked Bull as Cole trudged past them. 

“I don’t like the brain-picking. And it’s kinda… No, it’s completely none of his damn business.”

“I hate to break it to you, but I’m obvious about how I feel about you.” 

“I don’t mind it when it’s you.”

Eilan grinned. “Aw.”

“Shut up.”

“Are you being rude to the Inquisitor?” Cole asked, glancing back at Bull. “Is something wrong now?”

“No, Cole,” Eilan assured him, “it’s fine. It’s just that I am awfully fond of things that begin with the letter I.”

“And people or things with names beginning with 'Iron,'” Varric put in. 

“I know! Like the Iron Bull,” Cole said excitedly. “I was going to say that, but the Iron Bull said not to. He’s embarrassed now. Strange, happy, fluttery feelings like butterflies. Too much could hurt them, harm them, leave them broken on the ground. He wants everyone to know. He doesn’t want anyone to know. When he thinks about how much you love him he gets--”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Bull muttered, stalking ahead. “Can’t keep anything private.”

“Not with a spirit around,” Hawke said. “They have a way of making things… interesting.” 

There was something in her tone and a grimness to her features that Eilan understood only because of the few times Varric had mentioned Anders. It was the same look he got, and it made him ache for them. He couldn’t imagine what it was like to feel so betrayed. Even if Hawke had supported the mages, and even if she hadn’t killed the other apostate… How did it work? What it be like to have a friend do something like that?

Guiltily and selfishly, he hoped he never found out. Or, if he did, he would be able to be compassionate. Or at least kind. Hawke had let Anders live for he was her friend, and there was a part of her that understood his reasoning even if she had not agreed entirely with his actions. Or so Eilan assumed. After all, there was a part of him that understood not only Anders' reasoning but why he had done as he did.

“Not interesting. Terrible. Abomination. Bothersome. I bother everyone,” Cole said quietly once Hawke had gone on ahead. 

“It’s not that,” Eilan said, “not exactly. But… Perhaps you ought to share thoughts and feelings of your own? I’d like to know what’s on your mind.”

Cole blinked, mouth gaping open for a second. He tilted his head, regarding the Eilan strangely. Or so it seemed. “Share mine?”

“Look at this way, Cole… If you don’t tell me how you feel or what you're thinking, who else could? None of us have abilities like yours, and I know you want to help. So help me get to know you. I’d really like that.”

The spirit pushed the brim of his hat down. “Share mine and not the others... I could try. For you.”

“That’s all I can ask.”

The entrance to the smugglers’ lair had a banner with a skull, the eyes were covered by red. Instead, the cave was the same as the rest of it had been if a little creepier given the number of strange human-shaped jars. And the weird statue carved in the center from red and brown rock. Its rib cage was quite pronounced and rock hands covered its eyes. 

Then a Grey Warden with a sword came up behind him.

“It’s just us,” Hawke said. “I brought the Inquisitor.”

Eilan stared at the Warden who slowly lowered his blade. 

“My name is Stroud, and I am at your service, Inquisitor.”

"Good. I'll take all the help I can get. I know the Wardens have troubles of their own. and I wonder if we might help each other. It seems likely we are both working to deal with the same foe: Corypheus."

"I fear it is so," Stroud said. "When Hawke slew Corypheus, Weisshaupt was happy to put the matter to rest. But an archdemon can survive wounds that seem fatal, and I feared Corypheus might possess the same power." 

He moved over to a table covered in maps and notes. "My investigation cover clues but no proof. Then, not long after, every Warden in Orlais began to hear the calling.

"I recall that being a bad thing," Hawke said. "But I don't recall you telling me about all this."

"It was a Grey Warden matter. I was bound by an oath of secrecy."

"Is the Calling some sort of Grey Warden ritual?" Eilan asked.

"The Calling tells a Warden that the Blight will soon claim him,” Stroud explained. “Starts with dreams. Then come the whispers in his head. The Warden says his farewells and goes to the Deep Roads to meet his death in combat."

Hawke frowned. "And every Grey Warden in Orlais is hearing that right now? They think they're dying?"

"Yes, likely because of Corypheus."

And Corypheus could do this? Eilan sighed heavily. He was already formidable but this... This was quite an achievement. What had he done with the Wardens once they went to the Deep Roads? Was he letting them simply die or was something much worse happening?

"If the Wardens fall, who will stand against the next Blight? It is our greatest fear."

"And then they do something desperate... which is of course what Corypheus wants."

Eilan frowned. "But the Calling they're hearing... That can't be real. Corypheus could be mimicking the sound somehow."

"It might very well be. I know not. Even as a senior Warden, I have heard only the vaguest whispers about Corypheus.” 

“What can you tell me?”

“He is a Magister as well as a darkspawn-- and speaks with the voice of the Blight. That lets him affect the minds of Wardens, since we are tied to the Blight.”

“Then this Calling can’t possibly be real,” Eilan said with certainty.

“But the Wardens believe it to be real. They will act accordingly."

Eilan frowned as he considered the Warden in front of him. "If all of the Wardens are hearing this Calling, does... that include you?" Did it include Blackwall as well?

Stroud's eyes narrowed. "Sadly, yes. It lurks like a wolf in the shadows around a campfire. The creature that makes this music has never known the love of the Maker but... At times, I almost understand it. We must uncover what Corypheus has done and end it. This cannot stand."

Eilan sighed. “You’re right. If the Wardens think they're dying and have stopped thinking clearly, then they won’t be able to handle Corypheus without aid.” If they could handle Corypheus at all.

“We are the only ones who can slay archdemons. Without us, the next Blight will consume the world.”

At a very steep price, but then that seemed to be the way of the world. Eilan nodded. 

“Warden-Commander Clarel spoke of a blood magic ritual to prevent future Blights before we all perished. When I protested the plan as madness, my own comrades turned on me. The Grey Wardens are now gathering in the Western Approach. They are meeting at an ancient Tevinter ritual tower. Meet me there, and we will find answers."

“It’s always blood magic,” Hawke angrily remarked as they left. “Why is it always blood magic? Always Corypheus or some old fossil from Tevinter with some terrible secret. Always some band of idiots making all of their kind seem utterly pointless and expendable. It can make you wonder why you bother at all.”

“Because we have to. Because there must always has to be someone like us,” Eilan said gently. “And if there is someone like us, that someone must always end it. We will end this, Hawke.”

“Sounds familiar,” Varric said wistfully. 

“It does.” Hawke eyed Eilan sadly. “We will end this, Inquisitor, whatever it takes. I only hope that, for your sake, the price is one you are willing to pay.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be up either tomorrow or the day after. I've managed to get a fair bit of writing done, but I'm trying to avoid falling behind and I'd like more of a safety net.


	18. Chapter 18

*

They returned to Skyhold as it was relatively close to Crestwood. There was much to do, as per usual, before they ventured off into Orlais.

Eilan was currently debating between the Emerald Graves and Empresse du Lion as he dealt with other matters at the war table and with his inner circle. 

Scouts had already been dispatched to the Exalted Plains and the Western Approach. The Plains were primarily for Solas’ friend as well as other tasks for Cassandra, Blackwall, and Vivenne. 

Obviously scouting The Approach was necessary to continue to see if there was anything to done for the Grey Wardens. But rumor had it there was a High Abyssal Dragon and a dracology scholar to be found somewhere in the desert. Eilan had passed neither rumor along to Bull, hoping it could be something of a surprise should it all pan out.

“How would… Um. How would your people show someone that they're serious about a relationship?” he asked, leading Bull out to the courtyard.

"That’s not really a thing we do,” Bull said. “Did. Whatever.”

“It’s not?”

“Not at all. So Cullen might be right. I’m basically crap at being a Qunari.”

Eilan frowned. “That’s not… That’s not what I intended for you to dwell on. I just thought--”

Bull touched his cheek. “No harm done. For someone we really care about, there is an old tradition. You find a dragon's tooth. Break in half then you each wear a piece. Then no matter how far apart life takes you, you're always together.”

“What if you’re usually together anyway?”

“Well, it’s a pretty badass piece of jewelry. That’s gotta help. Why?”

“Just curious.”

“Curious, my ass. I kinda picked up on you being seriously into me, kadan. You might have noticed I’m sort of vaguely into you.”

Eilan sighed in exasperation. “I know, but that doesn’t mean I should do something important for you.”

“You already do that,” Bull assured him. He eyed the gazebo and the table in it. “What are we doing here?”

“Playing chess,” Dorian said, following them up to the table. He had a chessboard and a box of chess pieces tucked under his arm. “Eilan needs an opponent. Cullen is busy. So is Solas. And Varric. And Cassandra. Which left us with you.” 

“Gee, thanks,” Bull muttered.

Dorian began setting up the pieces. “Thank your Inquisitor. He’s the one who thought of you. I would have asked Vivienne or even Sera first.” 

“Huh. Which of these can jump over the others?” Bull asked, staring down at the chess board. “Short ones over the tall ones or...?” 

Eilan laughed.

“Do not attempt to lull the Inquisitor into a false sense of security,” Dorian insisted. 

“I would never,” Bull said with a wink solely for Eilan. 

“And don’t you dare make a pun,” Eilan cautioned. “That would be terri--”

“You’ve played this game before, Bull,” Dorian said, cutting Eilan off with a baleful glare. “I am sure of it.”

“Yeah, with Solas and not on a board. The way you people play chess involves a lot of sitting still. And waiting. And sitting. And strategy. And quiet reflection. Not really my thing. But if it would make the Inquisitor happy to kick my ass at the dullest game… I’ll do it.”

“If you win,” Eilan offered, “we can knock the board over.” 

“And?” Bull asked, unimpressed.

“And um… I’ll kiss you several times? Once Dorian leaves?”

“You will, huh?” 

Eilan smiled sheepishly as Dorian muttered something in Tevene.

“Inquisitor, there you are!”

Eilan raised an eyebrow at the entourage headed towards him. “Hello, Josephine. Leliana. Cullen. And Cassandra.”

Josephine was looking fiercely determined. Leliana was looking vaguely concerned. Cullen was looking just short of furious. And Cassandra looked pensive. She crossed her arms, staying at the back of the small group.

“Um. Did I miss a meeting?”

“No, Inquisitor," Josephine said, "but the matter I bring to you must be resolved. I had hoped to mention it sooner, but the Commander and Seeker have continually suggested I postpone it. They will not, however, disclose the reason. Therefore I must ask that you consider telling me. Or at least that you would resolve the matter. Afterwards, I will ask your forgiveness if need be.”

Cullen sighed heavily, and Cassandra remained as she was.

“Should we leave or are we invisible?” Dorian asked before looking at Bull. “Do you ever wonder how people can fail to notice you?”

“If I find a corner to stand in and avoid grunting, I can be pretty stealthy for a big guy.”

“I suppose.”

“You might as well stay,” Eilan said. He moved to Josephine. “What’s happened?”

“As you know, I have heard of your family just as you have heard of mine. We discussed it briefly.”

“Yes. That and my family’s motto,” Eilan said quietly. “‘Modest in temper, bold in deed.’” 

“Bold in stupidity at the moment,” Cullen observed.

“This is my report to share,” Josephine insisted. “Inquisitor, your relatives are indeed behaving poorly. They are boasting about their ties to you, the Herald of Andraste. Were it merely a means of achieving free drinks and notoriety, it would not matter. But your name is being used as both sword and coin. People have been threatened in your name. Goods have been taken for the same reason.”

“By members of my family?”

“Yes, and there is more. A letter.”

Eilan took the letter from her as though he were being handed a viper. The parchment was still sealed closed. He opened it. It wasn’t very long, hardly a paragraph.

 _I am pleased that you have found a true path and a righteous calling. The Maker works through you now as He has always worked through the rest of us. I trust you will see no harm comes to your noble House, to your family. Know it is the past that has brought you to this moment. Remember a learned,_ obedient _child is a blessing upon his parents and onto the Maker.  
_

It was unsigned but he knew it was from his mother. 

He read it over again, only becoming aware of the way his hand was trembling as he finished. He blinked down, staring at his fingers. The paper that was crumpling slightly.

“Can I see?” Bull asked.

Eilan swallowed hard, handing the letter away. 

Bull looked it over and then passed it along to Cullen.

“I should like to handle this. First I should like to understand,” Josephine said gently. “You need never see these people again, but there must be something I should know.”

“That we all should,” Leliana said, coming over to Eilan. “What is it you haven’t told us?”

“And if he doesn’t wish to say?” Cassandra asked.

Eilan sighed heavily, sitting back down at the chess board. “Since you’re all here, let me explain. When I was at the Circle, I was lonely. Bored. Scared. I ran off and I ran home a number of times. They’d find me in the stables with the horses. We had the best horses. I didn’t understand why my parents were so angry. I just wanted to…”

“You don’t have to--”

“I think I do, Cullen. I think I have to get used to saying this,” Eilan said. “I was the youngest son, the one for the Chantry, but then suddenly I was a mage. Not even a mage, but one who kept coming back. One who could be dangerous. One for whom the Maker surely had no use. 

"So the third time, they told the templars I nearly burned down the barn before they arrived. They said I tried to freeze my sister the second time as well, but they’d been too afraid too ashamed to say anything. They said whenever I was near them their thoughts turned wicked and their hearts turned black. They said whatever needed to be said. And in case the saying wasn’t enough, the coin did the rest.

"And why not? Why not wield the brand on some spoiled boy with powers he could someday misuse? And why not tell me about it once the bold deed was done? Once I could see that the Maker had turned his back on me a long time ago, and my parents could only face me if I was Tranquil. And now they take my name in vain. Now I am kin once more. Only now am I worth making use of. Not that boy who just wanted to go home.”

He blinked down at Dorian’s hand which was gently holding his own. The one that was still trembling slightly. He stared at the fingers brushing against his own. He couldn’t look up just then at everyone else, at anyone. 

“You did not share this sooner. You did not tell us or ask us to spread words of this although it could do much to destroy your family,” Josephine said quietly. “Why?”

“My brothers and sisters have children by now, surely. What two people did… I am not my mother. I am not my father. I will not diminish anyone for my own petty needs or desire for revenge.”

“Yeah, but this ain’t a petty grievance. So do it for them then,” Bull said. “Those kids have to grow up in this world too, don’t they?”

“Do it because it strengthens the need for change,” Cullen agreed. “For mages most of all, but surely it benefits everyone to know.” 

Dorian scoffed, tugging Eilan’s gaze up. “Mages most of all?” he repeated, his tone growing less biting and more earnest as he spoke. “It basically offers up divine justification to never make a mage Tranquil again. You have to say something, Eilan. You have to. Just as I had to face my terrible father and Varric had to face a very hostile Cassandra before Hawke arrived. Why, even Iron Bull has had to confront his inability to give up on wearing buffoonish trousers.” 

“Hey!” Bull said irritably. “I know you don’t give a shit, but I went through a lot the other day.”

“Yes, yes. I’m sure you go through a great deal of pants, and it’s all very sad.”

Eilan laughed before smiling apologetically at the Qunari.

“Back to the matter at hand,” Dorian said with a smirk. “I had thought it was enough that you told me or that you would tell some of us, but sitting on this will only hurt you. Let what you’ve been through help in a way that nothing else could.”

“Does it help us?” Cassandra asked a bit skeptically. “I want to believe that it will, but if it does not…”

“It can’t hurt the Inquisition, Seeker,” Leliana said. “People should know about this. All of this. He is Andraste’s Herald and others will seek out details about his past. It is likely they will find out no matter what we do. The best way to be in control of this is to be forthcoming with it. You owe it to the boy you were, Inquisitor, and you will do so much good with the sharing of this burden. You must see that.”

Eilan met her gaze, squeezing Dorian’s fingers which still remained curled around his. “I do. I see that.”

“On the other hand,” Josephine said thoughtfully, “it is quite a weapon to threaten your relatives with particularly if we do not disclose this information any time soon. I imagine they would do much to keep this particular truth from being revealed.”

“What would you do, Josephine?” Eilan asked, curiously. 

She smiled at him. “What good is a weapon if we can never use it? I believe that there is nothing these people can give the Inquisition that we cannot get ourselves. So I would handle these relatives then I would make sure everyone knew this particular story. That it was on the lips of the people of the Free Marshes including those harassed and all but robbed in your name. And I would hope that, if anyone like you is indeed a member of House Trevelyan, that he or she would understand.”

“Then handle my relatives,” Eilan said, managing the word with a great deal of distaste, “and share my origins in whatever order you see fit. I…” He glanced around at everyone, managing a grateful smile for each of them. “Thank you. All of you. I want to share this. If it can help, then I would like for it to help.”

“You go handle them, Josie,” Leliana suggested, coming over and placing a hand on Eilan’s shoulder. “Let me take care of the rest, Inquisitor.”

*

“I win! Get lost, Vint. I need kissing, not an audience.”

Dorian rolled his eyes but rose to his feet, swiftly packing up the chess pieces. “As if I would care to remain and gawk,” he muttered. He moved away from the table, stopping in front of the Inquisitor. “You’ve been awfully quiet. Are you all right?”

“Yes,” Eilan assured him. 

“You’d better be. If not, you know where to find me.”

“In the library.”

“Just so.” Dorian smiled down at him one more time, and then took his leave.

Eilan got up from his seat, moving into the Iron Bull’s lap. He kissed the Qunari’s cheek and wrapped his arms around his neck. “Hello.”

Bull stroked his hair. “Hello.”

“It occurs to me now that I never told you about… that.”

“Not most of it, no. Don’t suppose we’ll visit the Free Marches anytime soon? It’s not that far out of our way.”

“I doubt it.”

“Even if I have a very important mission that requires you to help me burn down your ancestral home?”

Eilan managed a small smile. “Even if.”

“I know you’re into talking and I respect that… but hitting things might be good.”

“Hitting things doesn’t sound half bad.”

“Good. I’ll find Krem.”

Eilan frowned. “I am not beating up Krem.”

“Then I’ll find Dalish. And Grim.”

“Not Skinner and Rocky?”

“I prefer you remaining in one piece. They’re not very good at that. I also want a few more kisses to tide me over first.”

*

After a good deal of kissing and what was actually a decent mock-skirmish, Eilan thought he ought to speak to Cullen. To thank him for what he said. Tracking the Commander down proved difficult. Eventually, Eilan decided it would be wiser to see if Cassandra knew where he was than to resort to searching the dungeons and basements of Skyhold. As it turned out, they were both in the same place.

“You asked for his opinion and mine. Why would you expect them to change?”

“It’s relentless. I can’t--”

"You give yourself too little credit."

"What if I'm given too much? If I'm unable to fulfill what vows I've kept then nothing good has come of this. How can I tell him that now? How can I tell him that I--"

Eilan leaned too heavily against the door he’d been standing behind. He swore under his breath as it swung open, but he moved inside.

Cullen looked away from him, heading to the door. “Forgive me.”

Cassandra scowled after him before looking to Eilan. “And people say I’m stubborn,” she said once Cullen was gone. “This is ridiculous. You know, of course, about the lyrium.”

“I do. I think it’s brave.”

“As do I, but he was not interested in my opinion today. Cullen wished for me to speak to you about finding a replacement for him.”

Eilan blinked. “I’m sorry did you say… A replacement?”

“I refused. It’s not necessary. Besides, it would destroy him. He’s come so far.”

And Cullen hadn’t been able to tell Eilan. How could he with everything else going on? It made Eilan feel so guilty, but also so very grateful for Cassandra. He hadn’t wanted Cullen deferring solely to her judgement, but he was glad there was someone else with an opinion the Commander could rely on. “I’m glad he came to you.” 

“You must understand, Eilan. We had an agreement long before you joined us. As a Seeker, I could evaluate the dangers, and he didn't want to risk your disappointment. He can risk mine, but not yours. It would be too devastating."

“I know. That is, I understand now,” Eilan reluctantly admitted. “Is there anything we can do to change his mind?”

“If anyone could it’s you.” She paused, hesitating before she added: “I know you have suffered, that mages suffer, and that it is not the same… But templars have never made their suffering known. They are bound to the order, mind and soul, with someone always holding their lyrium leash. Cullen has a chance to break that leash. To prove to himself and anyone who would follow suit that it's possible. He can do this. I knew that when we met in Kirkwall. But you must talk to him."

*

Eilan ducked out of the way of something flying past head. He wasn’t all that concerned about the near-miss but the contents of the broken box worried him a great deal. And he wasn’t sure what to make of the roar that had escaped Cullen’s lips.

The sound faded away quickly. The look on Cullen’s face was miserable and stricken. “Maker’s Breath. I didn’t hear you enter. I… Forgive me.”

Eilan left the threshold, moving past the bookshelves and towards Cullen. “There’s honestly nothing to forgive. You weren’t aiming for me. Given what was in that box, you made a good decision, I think.”

“I swear, I didn’t know you were…” He groaned, steadying himself against his desk. He raised a hand slightly when Eilan joined him, letting it serve as a barrier between them. “I would never-- I never meant for this to interfere.”

Eilan took Cullen’s armored hand in his hand, squeezing it gently. He let it go quickly though, unsure if Cullen needed more contact or less. “Are you going to be all right?”

“Yes.” Then he sighed. “I don’t know.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it… It’s better when I’m with you, or rather… I don’t think about it as much. Then it’s worse and how can I tell you? How can I add to everything else? Or admit that I can’t… That I can’t do even a fraction of all the things you can do.”

“Oh, Cullen.”

“I told you about what happened to Ferelden’s Circle. I have barely told you anything about Kirkwall though. Not enough of what happened there, but--”

“You don’t have to. You don’t have to keep--”

“Don’t have to keep what? Revisiting it?” Cullen asked quietly. He was panting slightly as he wandered behind his desk and over to a slit window. “How I wish that were true. How I wish...” Cullen trailed off, laughing bitterly. “How I wish so many things were different about who I am.”

“I don’t,” Eilan insisted. 

“I told you,” Cullen continued, giving no indication as to whether he’d heard Eilan or not. “I told you, and even then, even now… Eilan, you should be questioning what I’ve did. What I’m doing as we speak. What I’ve done. What I haven’t done. Maker, all the things I haven’t done…” 

Eilan longed to touch him, to stop him, but he couldn’t. Not because he thought anything bad would happen, but because if something did it wouldn’t help Cullen at all. Better to stay still and let him speak. He’d probably avoided discussing this with most people.

Cullen moved away from the window, closer to the door and bookshelves. “I thought that this would be better. But these thoughts won’t leave me. How many lives depend on our success? I swore myself to this cause.”

“You did, and you’re--”

“I will not give less to the Inquisition than I did the Chantry,” Cullen said in a broken almost frantic tone. “I cannot do less than I did in Kirkwall. I should be taking it!” And here he slammed his fist into the bookshelf. His fist stayed there as he looked down. 

Eilan startled slightly, closing his eyes. He wasn’t exactly scared, and he calmed quickly. It was surprising, although perhaps it shouldn’t have been. Eilan knew this wasn’t about him. This was about Cullen, and the anger he was sharing wasn’t meant to hurt anyone. The problem was that it could, and the larger problem was Cullen’s conviction that he would whether he wanted it to or not. What had happened as Eilan had entered the room had only have made existing matters worse.

“I should be taking it,” Cullen said, voice strained. “Before I ruin… Maker, is there anything left for me to ruin at this point?”

Eilan slowly drew near. “Nothing’s ruined,” he said. “This doesn’t have to be about the Inquisition. Is taking lyrium again… Is that what you want?”

Cullen took a breath in and then out again. “No.” His eyes narrowed, fixing on Eilan. His gaze wasn’t hostile so much as confused. He relaxed his hand, lowering it altogether as Eilan wrapped his arms around him.

Cullen allowed it, but he didn’t return the embrace or lean into it. “How can you… You shouldn’t. These memories have always haunted me-- If they become worse, if I cannot endure this...”

“You can endure this and you will. I will be here for you. But you cannot possibly give anymore to the Inquisition than you already do. You have to know that,” Eilan said, kissing Cullen’s cheek. “What you are now is all you can control. You’ve left the past behind you and I want to leave my past behind me and we can do that together. We can do that. Allow yourself a chance to just focus on what’s happening right now. I care about you too much to let you go back.”

“Is that really possible?”

“It is, I know it is. So please… Please don’t take the lyrium. We’ll work through this.”

Cullen sighed heavily. “All right.” He let his arms wind around Eilan’s back and he leaned against his shoulder. “All right.”

Eilan held Cullen for quite some time, carding his fingers through the other man’s hair. “You’re in no danger of ruining what we have, you know. I was looking for you to thank you for what you said.”

“It was all I could manage. That letter… your family… If I ever make you feel that way… Eilan, I can’t make you feel that way.”

“You don’t. You wouldn’t.”

“I hope that every word they hear, every unkind look they receive, cuts away at them, but it’s not enough,” Cullen said, kissing at Eilan’s neck. ”Would you consider sending me to the Free Marshes, sweetheart. I think it would do wonders in terms of speeding up my recovery.”

Eilan huffed out a small laugh. “Maybe for the Grand Tourney provided I could watch you best everyone in combat, but not to do away with the Banns Trevelyan.” 

“You’re quite sure?”

“Quite. The letter hurt, I can’t deny that. I’m... surprised by how much it hurt me, but it’s been ages since anything from them could. I suppose that’s was one blessing from my former mark. They couldn’t hurt me anymore. Perhaps I said I understood when they spoke to me that final time more to make them leave than for any other reason. That’s all they wanted from me. I knew that didn’t need them. I did not want them anymore. Not their house. Not their words. Not their touch. They served no purpose. They still don’t.”

“They never will.” Bull closed the door leading to Cullen’s tower, eying the broken box and its contents as he did so. “I won’t ask,” he decided. “Cassandra might have told me to check on both of you. Not I needed much prompting once I heard why you were up here. Could have said something sooner, Cullen.”

“Says the man who couldn’t bother reporting an assassination attempt,” Cullen muttered. 

“For the last time, it was a feeble one at best. Eilan was never in any danger. If anyone was in trouble, it was the assassins. He’d have taken both of ‘em out if I hadn’t told him not to.”

“Maybe we should work on our communication,” Eilan said, smiling when Bull came over and kissed him. “I’m fine, Bull.”

“I didn’t ask you. How are you, Cullen?”

Cullen blinked when the Iron Bull ruffled his hair. “Managing.”

“And no one’s upset. Nice work, you two.”

“You can thank Eilan for that.”

“I can think of some ways,” Bull readily agreed. “What did you do now, kadan?”

“Cullen’s staying off the lyrium,” Eilan explained with a smile. 

“Good. Would have been a fucking shame to go back to it now. You hungry? I’m hungry. I was going to get something to eat. You two might as well come with. Until communication improves and we all have better days, I’ll need some visual proof that you ate anything.”

Cullen rolled his eyes. “I suppose food would be nice.”

“Usually is. Can’t get better on an empty stomach and-- Hey! This is growing back,” Bull said, toying with Eilan’s hair. “I didn’t notice earlier. Gonna keep it long?”

“I might if it’s appropriate for Orlais. For the Ball, I mean.”

“Oh. Are we still worried about that?”

“Are we still… What part of an assassination attempt would interest you, Bull?” Cullen asked.

Bull grinned. “The ass part.”

“He’s a simple man,” Eilan explained, “but he grows on you.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so pleased and grateful for all the comments and kudos this fic has been getting!!! Thank you for reading as always.
> 
> In regards to this chapter, I really have to thank you, King_of_Hearts_129, for your comments. I hadn't thought too much about what I would do with Eilan's family or the role they played in his getting the Rite before them. 
> 
> And I don't know what it's like by anyone else, but it is freezing cold where I live. And I think I'm getting a cold myself. I will have another chapter up either tomorrow or Saturday depending on how I feel. 
> 
> In the mean time, I have [another tumblr post](http://cruelestmonth.tumblr.com/post/107417671860/share-your-silence-fic-babble) up about the fic if anyone wants to weigh in.


	19. Chapter 19

*

In one large estate at Emerald Graves, Eilan found a piano. The rest were busy looting the rooms now that they’d cleared out the red templars and located all the parts of the key to what sounded like quite a treasure. At least Dorian and the Iron Bull seemed pleased.

Eilan looked around, idly considering the piano keys with his thumb and forefinger. He righted the piano bench which was lying on its side. Then he sat down. It wasn’t as badly out of tune as it could be. And he closed his eyes, seeing what he could remember. It felt natural and right. Soothing.

“You’re alright.”

He stopped, opening his eyes and glancing up.

Sera smiled. She stared at him then sat down on the piano bench beside him. “At playing, that’s all.”

“Thank you.”

“You remember that from when you were little?”

“Yes and no. I played… I could still play when I was Tranquil.”

Sera made a dubious face. “What was that like?”

“Music for me was… It’s a skill, isn’t it? There is a technique to it and it is something one can strive to be good at it.”

“Sounds boring when you put it that way.”

Eilan shrugged. “Music still made sense even if it didn’t make me feel anything.”

“And that sounds right awful. So… You played?

“For a time,” Eilan said, touching the keys again. Someone, maybe another mage, said I didn’t have enough heart. I was confused by that. I had a heart. It was working just fine, and I couldn’t understand what heart had to do with anything. But it seemed like my playing was not what that mage or many of the others wanted to hear. So I stopped.”

“Shows you just how useless other people are,” Sera said, touching the piano keys. “You like music now?”

“I do.”

“Just the instrumental rubbish or songs as well?”

“I like songs. I always enjoy hearing Maryden’s.” Although he imagined she was still put out that he’d never dealt with her rival. “Yours is a fun one.”

“Because it’s about me.”

“In part,” Eilan agreed.

“I like mine.” She elbowed him gently. “Play it.”

“What? Now?”

“You’ve nothing better to do. ‘Sides, your Tevinter governess or lover or whatever is making sure you get the loot you want.”

“I would love to see Dorian’s face when--oof.” She’d elbowed him again, harder this time. Eilan eyed her sharply then laughed. “Maker, you have…” She moved to do it again and he scooted away. “Quite a bony elbow there. All right, all right. Your song. As my lady doth command.”

He launched into the first part of “Sera Was Never,” giving up on later verses. The melody was simple enough that he barely needed to use two hands, but he couldn’t remember all of the words. Sera didn’t seem to mind, her eyes darting back and forth, following the movement of his fingers over the piano.

“Another.”

“The elbow trick isn’t always going-- Never mind. Fine. Another one.”

He moved on to “Once We Were,” his personal favorite of Maryden’s repertoire. He decided to improvise a bit and compose a slightly more complicated tune allowing for chords and the pedal at his feet.

He focused on feeling the music, letting the wistful words remind him of Haven. And then, feeling keenly sorrowful, as he thought of the way he would have played in the past. He supposed it was selfish, but his heart broke often for the boy he’d been. It wasn’t that he mourned or at least it wasn’t that he missed being that way, but… He remembered...

Eilan blinked when Sera’s head came to rest on his shoulder, but he didn’t pull away.

“Are you sad a lot?” she asked, sounding as close to quiet as she could.

He let his hands fall from the keys. “I was. I’m not anymore.”

“Because of us.”

“It would have to be,” he murmured. “Who else could make me smile?”

“Are you two ready to go?” Dorian asked, standing in the doorway. He seemed to not be looking exactly at them though, and his expression was a bit brooding.

“Depends,” Sera asked. “Are you ladies done picking out pretty dresses?”

“Quite done. All that’s left for you are the rags. I’m sure they’ll suit you.”

Sera rolled her eyes at him. She made a face, one eye closed and her tongue lulling out as she neared him.

Dorian just snorted.

Eilan considered the piano one more time and got to his feet. At the door, Dorian put a hand on his shoulder.

“What you’ve said before has made me sad. But this… I’ll never understand how they took this away from you. Or how you can… Don’t you hate them? All of them? Even a little?”

“Who is them, Dorian? Can you tell me exactly? Give me all their names so I can find them?”

“You mustn’t hate on such a specific level, darling. Can’t you simply hate… I don’t know. Everyone? Then you can work your way down to something more exact. Perhaps the Chantry? Those who work for it?”

“I feel no love for the Chantry and its abuse of those in its case. Not to mention the callous disregard for every, actual teaching that the Maker handed to it. But the Inquisition is not the Chantry. If the remnants of the old Chantry will not grow and adapt to support the people of Thedas with something new and better... Then the Inquisition will provide what is truly needed. As time allows, of course.”

Dorian managed a small ghost of a smile. “You’ll do that. You’ll go all around this entire wicked world and right all the wrongs, won’t you? And it would work too. What an unstoppable little maelstrom you are, Inquisitor.”

Eilan ought to have objected, but it was said with obvious affection so he let the matter drop. Outside of ducking his head, slightly embarrassed to be the focus of Dorian’s admiration. “Don’t discount your own role in all all the wonders that I do as a mighty, whirling force of nature. I could hardly do this alone.”

“My role as amusing sidekick by day or secret archnemesis come dark of night? I haven’t forgotten. My plans to abduct you and seduce you with my remarkable wiles are already in effect.”

“Are they?”

Dorian grinned. “Oh yes. I’m actually far ahead of the time table I’d laid out for myself. I already have a secret lair and or laboratory located directly underneath your bedroom at Skyhold.”

Eilan laughed. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

“May I ask how?”

“You certainly may. It turns out that I have about four dragons at my beck and call.”

“About four dragons? How oddly specific.”

“You haven’t heard this? They’re those invisible old Tevinter gods that follow me around somehow occupying no real space but allowing me all the undue influence I need to bend you to my will.”

Eilan laughed. “Oh, right. Those four dragons. Actually, I was thinking of the role where you’re this powerful mage who has my back in virtually every fight.”

“I do like that one,” Dorian admitted. He paused, eying Eilan closely. “What do you feel then? If it’s not anger, what is it?”

“I feel so many things. A little sad. A little happy. Grateful. Hopeful. Lonely at times. Scared. Loved but I’m never sure… That is, there are times when I can’t see how anyone could feel that way about me. The anger comes when it needs to, but I’m not angry right now.”

“Then you’re a better man than most of us,” Dorian said quietly. 

*

There was so much to do in Emprise du Lion that Eilan could have remained there for months on end without managing to complete it all. He had managed to make progress on clearing the red templars which had lead to handling behemoths and horrors. The quarry at Sahrnia was unfortunately deserted but he had a few more leads on Samson to bring to Cullen. 

Eilan woke up, their third or fourth night in camp, shaking and covered in sweat.

Bull pulled him into his arms and kissed his hair. “It’s all right, it’s all right. I’ve got you.”

“It wasn’t… Oh, Bull, it wasn’t even the right sort of nightmare.”

“The right sort of nightmare?”

“It wasn’t even about…” It was odd to find that more stressful than anything else was the possibility of leaving anything undone. “I can’t get all of this done. I can’t. I’m trying so hard to come up with a way but I can’t. Even when I’m sleeping, it’s still too much and I can’t.”

“Aw, kadan… Breathe, okay? Think big picture. Grey Wardens and the Empress first. Gotta save the world and close the rifts. Then you can save all the shards, constellations, letters, weapons, lyrium, smugglers, elves, plants, chickens, and whatever.”

Eilan chuckled. “Chickens?” 

“I dunno. Fancy-ass runes? All of that other stuff will be here later. We’re going to have to come back. We’re going to have to go back to all the places we’ve been for other things too.”

He nodded shakily. “I’m…”

“Exhausted? Probably. You’re doing a shitload here. It was bound to fry your brain at some point,” Bull murmured soothingly. “You got this. All the important stuff will get done, and all the rest we’ll do when we can. That’s all anyone wants.”

“I know.”

“And I know I give you hard time about collecting all the rocks and plants that we find, but I’m starting to get it now. It’s relaxing for you. Elfroot and whatever. No high stakes, right?”

“I guess. I think it’s mostly because they’re shiny and I like plants.”

Bull snorted, pulling him closer and hugging him tightly to his chest. “Makes sense to me.”

“You’re not disappointed?”

“In you? Never. This can’t still be a surprise. As long as there’s always something to kill and someone to hold at the end of the day, I’m good.”

“Okay.”

“Let’s talk about something totally unrelated to work, huh? For a change of pace? Let’s talk about us. Any us-related items to bring to my attention?”

Eilan took a deep breath, working towards calming down. Bull’s hand cupped his cheek and he managed a small smile. “Us-related. All right. I was thinking… um… maybe after the dragon, we could try… I know sex is not more but I’d like to try… other things.”

“After the dragon?”

“Shit. That was supposed to be a surprise.”

“I like when you swear,” Bull murmured, kissing Eilan’s cheek. “So. What dragon is this now?”

“There’s one in the Western Approach according to Harding. A high abyssal dragon that I thought we could kill together. Then I thought we could… It’s really stupid...”

“I totally doubt that it’s stupid. What?”

“Maybe we could have victory sex? Um. Not over the dead dragon, which I hope isn’t something you’re hoping for… But after? I mean, we’d have all this adrenaline and steam to burn off. And I really love you so--”

“Uh, kadan… Not to interrupt but… You don’t have to sell me on sex with you. You know that, right? I mean, the great thing about being in love is you don’t have to worry about that. And I’m not worried. It’ll be good. I’ll make it good. So will you.”

“I want it to be really special.”

“Which means you need to kill a dragon for me?”

“Yes. You were so excited when I even suggested I would and I think it would be nice to do it. Prove that you matter to me.” He also needed a tooth, but he wasn’t sure he ought to mention that yet. Even if he imagined it was painfully obvious.

“You’re a really weird thing to happen to a guy, Eilan.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah. It’s good just weird. But… between you and me? It’s okay if you want sex before the dragon.”

“After. It has to be. Then it’s more romantic.”

“I created a monster,” Bull muttered. “Fine. Terrific. After the dragon, and we’re going to do it after the dragon, right? If you need to wait, that’s one thing. But if there’s a bereskarn you want me to wrestle or a kraken I have to slay or a giant I need to maim or a unicorn I have to fetch… Well, I’d do it, obviously. I’d like to know ahead of time though.”

“Just the dragon. So far.”

“Good. Because I have to tell you, I like this whole killing to prove yourself thing… But sex really doesn’t have to be this much work.”

“Hm. Maybe not.” 

“Something else on your mind? Any of it have to do with the fun sort of hard work?”

Eilan smiled innocently up at Bull. “Oh, I was just wondering… Do you think we’ll have time for the wedding before Corypheus shows up?”

“I… What?”

“I rather assumed we were getting married. After the dragon, of course.”

“Uh...um…”

Eilan laughed. “The look on your face.”

“Oh, you are evil,” Bull murmured. He dragged Eilan down to their bedrolls and kissed him soundly. 

*

They went back to Skyhold before proceeding to the Exalted Plains or the Western Approach. Primarily for supplies and to see how the improvements to the keep were coming along, but also because Eilan had wanted to check on his Commander. He also had more information on Samson from the quarries they’d clear out in Sahrnia.

Cullen was on the battlements, looking out at the sky. Taking a break for work for a change. It was quite a sight to see and quite a pleasant one at that. 

He turned to face Eilan. "I wanted to thank you... When you came to see me... If there's anything… This sounded much better in my head."

"Breathe," Eilan advised, pulling Cullen to him. "I know how you feel. You don't have to thank me though. You do this for me all the time. I trust you’re feeling better?"

Cullen leaned against Eilan and sighed. “Yes.”

“Is it always as bad as it was?” Eilan kissed Cullen’s cheek. “I know you said it’s better if I’m around but it can’t… Is it always that bad?”

“I would have told you if it was. The pain comes and goes. Sometimes I feel as if I'm back there... I should not have pushed myself so far that day.”

“You can be quite unkind to yourself.”

“I suppose I can be.”

“I’m just glad you’re all right,” Eilan said, letting the other man go.

Cullen smiled. “I am. I was... I was not myself after Kinloch Hold. I was angry. For years, that anger blinded me. I'm not proud of the man I was. When I think of the way I saw mages and when I think of you now... I'm not sure I would have cared about you back then, and the thought sickens me. Frightens me."

"I was... Truthfully, Cullen, what would there have been to care about?”

“There would have been much there to care about, I’m sure of it. I wish I’d spoken to you at the Conclave.”

“I’m not surprised you didn’t. Most prefer to avoid a Tranquil.”

Cullen shook his head. "That anyone can have the ability to take someone away, someone like you away, not only from yourself but everyone else... It shouldn’t have taken you stumbling out of the Fade and crying on a cell floor for me to begin to understand how wrong it all was.”

“Maybe not but it did. If I can help other people see that, then maybe… Maybe it was worth it if only a little.” Eilan smiled as Cullen took his hand in his, kissing the back of it. “The important thing is all the hard work you’ve done for the Inquisition and for me. You can’t refuse to let yourself move forward because of what you would have done in the past.”

“I won’t. Not when I can put some distance between myself and everything that’s happened. That’s a start.”

“For the record, I still very much like who you are now.”

“Even after...”

“Cullen, I care about you. You’ve done nothing to change that.”

Cullen nodded thoughtfully as if he was committing what Eilan had just said to memory. Perhaps he was. “What about you? How are you holding up?”

“Oh, well enough.” 

“Honestly.”

“Honestly, well enough. Don’t get me wrong. I’m overwhelmed at times. There is so much to do everywhere I go. There are so many people who depend on us. On me. And Corypheus is still out there.”

“We’ve made great strides,” Cullen assured him. “Don’t doubt yourself-- or the Inquisition-- just yet. If there’s anything I can do, you’ve only to ask, sweetheart.”

“I will.”

“That reminds me.”

“What does?”

“Come on. I’ll show you.”

Eilan laughed as Cullen tugged him to the stairs. “But what reminded you?”

“You’ll see.”

Down in the stables, he blinked at how just how many animals were there. He’d known about the horses and some of the exotics, but he hadn’t really so many had arrived.

“I keep forgetting to show you all of this, but here it is.”

“My wild menagerie of mounts?”

“Yes. You’ve seen the horses and there’s a few new Dracolisks… But here’s the Red Hart and your Bog Unicorn. Although really I think you’d be better off with a real unicorn.”

“Oh yes, that would do a great deal of good for my reputation I don’t think.”

Cullen grinned.

“I want to take the Red Hart with when I go. Or… would he do all right in the desert?”

“You’ll probably want a Dracolisk for that. The Hunter Shade ought to do nicely.”

“Oh. I’m… I really don’t ride much. I should. I’d like to. Only I find so many things when we’re out exploring.”

“So I’ve heard,” Cullen wryly replied. He nudged Eilan towards the stall where the Red Hart stood, eying them thoughtfully. “Get to know him at least,” the Commander suggested. “Hold your hand out, let him suss out that you’re a friend. Food helps.”

Eilan held his hand out palm down, blinking as Cullen turned his hand palm up, adding feed to it. “Will he like me?”

“I don’t see why not?”

And soon enough, Eilan was petting the animal’s soft nose and ears. “What about his antlers?”

“What about them?”

“I know how to groom horses but…”

“Oh. You shouldn’t have to worry about that outside of seeing he’s fed properly. You should craft him some mineral licks, but his antlers will grow and shed and return with the seasons.”

“Is it like that with Qunari?”

“Are you honestly asking me about… Well, it’s you. You probably are,” Cullen muttered.

“This isn’t at all like the ‘Do you think Bull is warm?’ conversation.”

“It’s surprisingly similar. It all ends up sounding much like lessons in proper Qunari maintenance. Maker only knows why you ask me.”

“Never mind then.” Eilan patted the hart again, loathe to leave it behind even for a moment. “Can we go riding, do you think? Just us, I mean. I know it’s sort of silly but it would be really nice to just be normal for a bit. And I’m always leaving you behind when I go.”

“Certainly. I don’t see why we can’t take a ride right now.”

“You don’t?”

Cullen laughed. “Let me put it to you another way, sweetheart... Do you think the Inquisitor is going to mind if you borrow me for a few hours?”

Eilan blushed. “Oh. Right. Um. I think he’d be all right with that.” 

“Then we’ll go in-- Sweet Andraste, it’s always something.” Cullen’s tone immediately went from nearly excited to dreadfully put out. “Hello, Blackwall.”

“Cullen. Can I see the Inquisitor before you leave?”

Eilan smiled at the Commander and then at the Warden. “Oh, um. certainly, Blackwall. Only we’re going riding so...”

“It won’t take long,” Blackwall said. “Gives your man here time to gather up some food for the trip. Won’t that be nice? Almost like you’re going off on a romantic outing of some sort.”

“I suppose that’s something we could try at some point...” Cullen trailed off as Blackwall glared at him. “All right, all right,” he said, backing out of the stable. “We’ll go on a romantic picnic. Maker’s Breath.”

“He’s a force to be reckoned with I’m sure, but is he ever so slow when it comes to you. I am constantly trying to give that man a few hints,” Blackwall said once the Commander was gone, “and every time I nearly have to bludgeon him to death with them.”

“He’d have thought of it on his own.”

“Yes, he would have. Once we were off who knows where and it was too late and all he could was regret not asking. He likes to beat himself up over things. It’s a bad habit.”

One that Blackwall also had, but it seemed very unkind to say so. “What do you think of my other advisors?”

“Josephine's lovely... and craftier than you'd expect. The Inquisition could not have picked a better Ambassador.”

Eilan waited for more, but that seemed to be all Blackwall had to say on the matter. Did… he have feelings for Josephine? 

“Anyway, I wanted to show you how your staff is coming along.”

Eilan followed the Warden over to the table he’d been using for his woodwork.

“The griffin’s coming along too.”

“It is and here’s your staff.”

Eilan blinked and blinked again. It was… It was lovely. Ornately carved with all sorts of creatures up to the place where the leather grip would go. The top of the staff was unfinished, but already it looked rather perfect. 

“I’m waiting until we find the right stone for the top there. And I’m working on the eyes using some of what you’ve gathered already. Not sure what leather you’d like, but I’m guessing we ought to wait until after we finally kill a dragon. Dorian offered to figure out the lyrium infusion. I thought you wouldn’t mind. You have quite enough on your plate as it is.”

“You… You really made this for me?”

“Surely you recall asking, and no one else has asked. I’m not sure I would offer, truth be told.”

“Still I… this is…”

“A small part of what I hope to do as I serve the Inquisition. It's good to be part of something so important, something that could change things," Blackwall said with a smile.

“I’m pleased that you feel that way.”

“Makes me sound like a Chantry sister, doesn't it? Some giddy new initiate. But so be it. I suppose you've earned my loyalty... and girlish enthusiasm.”

Eilan laughed.

“‘You are who you choose to follow.’ Someone told me that once. Took me years to understand what he meant.”

"There's wisdom in that." As long as you could find or be someone worth following.

"It was a chevalier that said those words to me. A powerful man, but never without honor. A true knight. We met as competitors in the Grand Tourney. He left me with that advice before we parted. Put aside his own ambitions to help me win the melee. I don't think I ever thanked him."

"The Grand Tourney of the Free Marches?"

"The same," Blackwall said, crossing his arms.

"What was it like?" Eilan asked eagerly.

"It's a spectacle. Song, dance, wine. Every amusement you can imagine." Blackwall chuckled. "But the greatest part is the Contest of Arms. Prove yourself in the Grand Tourney, and you can make your fortune."

"How did he help you?"

Blackwall laughed again. "You do like your stories."

"Sorry."

As the tale of Blackwall’s Grand Tourney continued, Eilan couldn’t help feeling sorry for the man. This was why Eilan didn’t always enjoy the Warden’s stories. They all ended so sadly, and it was all he could do not the try to comfort Blackwall. He would have, but he wasn’t sure the other man would appreciate it. 

"When it was over, he offered to mentor me, to teach me to become a chevalier just like him." Blackwall looked down towards the carved griffin. "And I, young and stupid, turned him down flat. I'd just won the melee at the Grand Tourney. I didn't need him." Blackwall looked up, moving closer to Eilan. "I should've gone with him. Perhaps things could've been different."

"Yes, but you're here now. A Grey Warden. It worked out."

"I suppose it did, didn't it? But I'm older, hopefully wiser, and I think I've chosen the right person to walk with."

"Even though I'm not like you? Not a warrior? I won’t be winning a Grand Tourney anytime soon.”

“The world doesn’t need anymore men like me. It’s probably better to follow and work with someone different from yourself anyway. Makes it easier to learn something from each other, don’t you think?”

“I think it’s good working with different types of people but the world could do with more men like you. I do believe that.”

Blackwall looked back to the table. “I know you do.”

“Does… Does it help you at all?”

Blackwall raised an eyebrow.

“Working on these projects? Does it help with the Calling? With Corypheus? Having something to do might be a good distraction. I know it must be difficult. It’s just you never say much about.”

“Or complain?” Blackwall smiled. “You have enough to contend with, Inquisitor. I try not to dwell on it, but I’m sure all of this nonsense here has helped. Busy hands, busy mind.”

“I don’t suppose you’re ready then?” Cullen asked joining them. 

“Go on then,” Blackwall said. “I’ll never get a thing done if you stay here.”

“All right. Thank you, Blackwall. For the staff and… well, the talk.”

“Anytime, Inquisitor.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still incredibly sick right now and very brain-dead. I think I will hold off on updating again until Monday or Tuesday. I don't want to run out of completed chapters and right now I'm pretty sure I won't be writing for another day or so. 
> 
> In happier news, there will be a picnic, dancing lessons, and (probably) dragon-slaying in the next chapter?


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a picnic, dancing, and dragon-slaying as previously promised. (Just FYI - There is also a sex scene at the end of this chapter.)

*

Cullen’s Orlesian Courser was a decent enough match for Eilan’s Red Hart. They rode in a companionable if awkward silence, both of them glancing at the other when they weren’t looking and then getting flustered.

“We could race,” Eilan suggested after a while.

Cullen grinned. “Could we? Do you know where we’re going?”

“Oh. Um, no.”

“What about on the way back? It might be a good training exercise.”

“I suppose. After all, if I get lost, you’d find me.”

“I would. I wouldn’t tell anyone either.”

“That’s very kind.”

Cullen nodded, sighing after another moment of silence. “I keep trying to think of something clever to say. Only I think I might strain myself from the effort.”

Eilan laughed. “I’m sure that is not true at all.”

“Oh, it is. All I have are some terrible pun-filled observations.”

“Let’s hear them.”

“I don’t know.” 

“All right. Give me the best one.”

“It’s not entirely accurate.”

Eilan rolled his eyes, nudging Cullen’s side as he rode a bit closer. “Stop stalling, Commander.”

“Very well.” Cullen cleared his throat. Then he smirked charmingly at Eilan. “You have a way with harts, particularly the one I gave you.”

“I quite like that, actually.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. Were there other ones?”

“Er, no. That is, I was sort of pretending there were but that’s all I have at the moment.”

Eilan leaned slightly over and kissed Cullen’s cheek. “That’s all right. Would you like me to come up with something to say about you?”

“Such as?”

“I suppose… Your voice is so perfect, you could command me anytime. You’re no mage but you cast quite a spell on me. You hone your focus like a well-crafted weapon but you’re no tool. You’re so good with horses because you’re so stable.”

Cullen laughed even as he groaned. “Maker. That last one was painful. I do like the third one.”

“Yours is my favorite.”

“You weren’t storing those up, were you?”

“No. If I stored up anything, it would be boring facts no one cares about.”

“Dare I ask?”

Eilan smiled. “Well, actually, I have memorized passages from The Botanical Compendium by Ines Arancia. I found it comforting. Did you know there are actually several varieties of elfroot in addition to Common and Royal? There’s also Bitter or Gossamer. I haven’t really found any. No one even knows how many kinds of deep mushrooms there are. We’re unlikely to find anything beyond the very common sort.” 

“A shame, really,” Cullen wryly observed.

“Yes, and there’s two types of deathroot. Arcanist and Lunatic’s. And so much of what we know about herbs comes from the Tevinter Imperium. Such as the--”

Cullen faked a yawn and smirked. “I’m really quite fascinated by this. Please continue.” 

Eilan grinned back. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, but if I fall asleep on my horse, don’t make an effort to wake me.”

“Something more interesting then. Did you know deathroot comes from the Tevinter Imperium? Arcanist Deathroot was discovered growing on the corpses of dead slaves. Lunatic’s Deathroot gained notoriety when it was used by a courtesan named Melusine. She baked it into pies and served it to her lover and his family at a banquet. Everyone there, guests included, had terrifying hallucinations and tore each other to bits.”

Cullen made a face. “You do know we’re going to eat soon.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s all right. I’m just glad that at the last minute I decided against meat pies.”

Eilan laughed.

“You think I’m joking but I’m quite serious. And… I doubt I’ll find any before you go but I can ask our scouts and even our soldiers to look for those other types of elfroot.”

“Maybe they could look for lazurite.”

Cullen raised an eyebrow. “I may not know much about plants, sweetheart, but I know enough to realize lazurite is not one of them.”

“I should hope so.”

“What do you need it for?”

“I’m working on becoming a Knight-Enchanter.”

“Right. The specialists. What made you choose that one?”

“Vivienne is one, and I really admire her techniques. Solas also recommended it. Apparently the speciality is based on the training for arcane warriors.”

“I’m very happy for them both, but why did you choose it?”

“Why is that important?”

Cullen gave him a slightly exasperated look. “You chose it. I care about you.”

“I, um…” Eilan sighed, giving Cullen a sheepish look. “I know I should say it seemed like the best pick given my other abilities. And that I’m looking forward to weakening foes and reviving allies but… If I learn to become a Knight-Enchanter, I can summon up a glowing blue sword.”

“Can you?”

Eilan nodded, still feeling a bit ridiculous.

“Eilan, I may not be a templar any longer, but you understand I’m still a warrior, correct?”

“Of course.”

“Then believe when I saw I can imagine little better than a sword that can be conjured up out of the thin air let alone one that glows.”

“Still, it’s not a good reason to choose a specialty.”

“It’s not a good reason, no. It’s the best reason you could have.” 

Eilan smiled. “Well, I believe you so... That must be true.”

“It is very true. How much lazurite do you require?”

“Commander Helaine suggested ten pieces in order to begin learning to make a spirit blade. I have the rest of what I need for it. Once that’s all done, I’ll be able to train with her.”

“If I help, does that mean I get to see it first once you’ve learned to cast it?”

“Either way, I should be glad to show you first, Cullen.”

“Consider it done then. In fact, I imagine some can be brought back from the scouts in the Western Approach or the Exalted Plains. I’ll make sure of it.” 

“Only if it won’t distract you for more important work.”

“This is important. Besides, I’d rather you gave tasks like this to the rest of us anyway. Your time should be better served.”

“And yours should be wasted?”

Cullen shook his head. “Anything that is done for you or in your name will never be a waste. It also means a lot to the men and women who work for you. Knowing they helped the Inquisitor… It makes everything else worthwhile.”

“Then… I’d be glad to receive the help.”

Eventually, they were out of the Frostbacks and in a green valley. Cullen led the way to a small glade with a lake. He slid off his horse, giving the area a discerning glance before approving of the spot. Although the help wasn’t strictly necessary, Eilan had no trouble sliding off the hart’s back and into Cullen’s arms.

“This is lovely.”

Cullen kissed Eilan, holding him for a few more seconds before letting the mage’s feet touch the ground. “Lovely and hopefully a bit normal? I have to admit it’s been ages since I thought of what normal actually looked like.”

“I think so.”

“You can withold judgement if you like, and tell me afterwards,” Cullen said, untying the basket he’d brought with. He put down a woolen blanket with a green highever weave then emptied out the basket’s contents. A cheese tray, bread, fruit, and a small bottle of wine. “I wasn’t entirely sure what to bring so…”

Eilan sat down on the blanket, gesturing for Cullen to join him. “This seems like enough.”

“It does. Just a minute,” Cullen said, peeling off layers of armor. He set them down a short distance away, keeping his sword with him when he finally moved to join Eilan. He set his cape around Eilan’s shoulders and smiled. “There.”

Once Cullen was seated, Eilan sprawled out, resting his head against the other man’s thigh. “Mm. And this is perfect.”

Cullen leaned over and kissed Eilan’s lips. Then he settled for carding his fingers through Eilan’s hair. “Am I going to need to feed you?”

“Only if it’s grapes. I’ve heard that’s… um… a thing?”

“Well, then I suppose there’s nothing for it but to do it. I wouldn’t deprive you.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course. After all, grapes have a certain appeal.”

Eilan huffed out a laugh. He reached a hand up, brushing it over Cullen’s cheek down to his lips. Eilan smiled when Cullen caught his hand, pressing gentle kisses to the back and the palm. “You have one too.” 

*

Dagna was more than willing to look into Samson’s armor and whatever weaknesses it could possibly possess. He left the matter to her for the time being, deciding to check back on her progress after he’d met up with Stroud and whatever he’d found in the Western Approach.

So, to continue making his rounds, he headed to his Ambassador’s office. “I thought I’d see how…” Eilan blinked as he entered the room. “Oh. Um. Hello. Josephine. Dorian. Hawke.”

“It’s like a bad joke, isn’t it?” Hawke asked, leaning against the wall towards the back of the office. “An Antivan, a Tevinter and a Lothering refugee waiting in a room.”

“It is a bit. I can come back.”

“Stay, Inquisitor,” Josephine insisted. “They’re here because I asked them to be here.”

“All right.”

“Halamshiral is… Well, with luck, quite a ways off, but you haven’t had a chance to prepare for it at all.”

“No, I suppose I haven’t. We’re off to the Approach soon so--”

“So when you are here at Skyhold, Dorian is going to help you learn to dance. I am going to help you with your manners and political savvy. Hawke is here--”

“Because I walked in at the wrong time. Or so I’m assuming. They wouldn’t let me leave until you arrived.”

Josephine frowned at her. “I asked you here. You’re here because you’ve had experiences in Orlais.”

“Or, more specifically,” Dorian explained, “because Hawke ought to do something other than serve as the Inquisition’s finest gargoyle. She just sits up on the roof scowling. It’s quite disconcerting.”

“You… No one’s provided you with quarters of your own?” How could that be?

“They’ve been offered and declined. I am quite content on the battlements. Cullen’s up there, Varric visits, I can spy on people, and… I am the Inquisition’s gargoyle.” Hawke shrugged. “I’ve been worse things. All the same, I don’t see how my Orleisian misadventures will do you much good. I already told you about it.”

“How did it end?” Eilan asked. “You got very caught up on telling me about the fake bee sting and the other nonsense you attempted to gain entry.”

Dorian gave Josephine a pointed look. A look that suggested they might as well have left Hawke up on the roof for all the help she’d be.

“I killed the host. And his favorite wyvern. Not exactly something you’re going to want to do. Or, at least not right away. Or, at least, not the host. Or probably not. It’ll depend. After awhile, it all just depends in Orlais.” 

Josephine crossed her arms. “You must have done something to earn approval.”

“I was the Champion of Kirkwall at the time. Other than that, I chucked coins in a fountain, gathered up statues, nearly got done in by a Harlequin, and then I got caught red-handed breaking into the Chateau.” Hawke sized Eilan up thoughtfully then smirked. “I suppose I could teach you how to seduce your way inside. Gain a set of keys or something. I doubt you know how.”

“You’d be surprised,” Dorian murmured.

“It’s possible,” Hawke said with a shrug. “Anyway, seduction. It’ll work on women and, in your case, men with a preference for other men. Seeing as you’re going to Orlais, that’ll be a good portion of those present. Otherwise you’ve got Josephine and Leliana.”

Eilan blinked a bit. “You want me to practice seducing you? For keys?”

Hawke laughed. “No. I’m in enough trouble with Fenris as it is, but Dorian will do. I’ll give you pointers.”

Dorian rolled his eyes. “What about me screams handsome young man with a set of keys who can be seduced by the same?”

“It could be the accent,” Josephine suggested. “Or the facial hair.”

“Fair enough. All right, I’m game.”

“And the dancing?” Eilan asked. “Wouldn’t that be a more prudent place to start?”

Josephine smiled. “You never know with Orlesians, but very well. For dancing, you’ll need a partner as well. I am willing, but we could probably make good use of Hawke. Your posture and your form are critical.” 

“It’ll be my pleasure.” Hawke said with a laugh. “Will you be all right, Inquisitor?”

“Um. Fine,” Elan managed. “Just you...um…”

“I’ll manage not to step on your toes just as I’ll manage to ignore how absolutely adorable you are,” Hawke promised. “I’ve had a lot of practice with both.”

“Have… have you?” Eilan managed.

Dorian rolled his eyes. “Inquisitor, please. I gather that her being Hawke is of some level of cultural significance but... Get a grip, will you?”

Hawke grinned. “He will shortly. When we’re dancing.”

Dorian glared at Hawke.

“Well, he’s going to lead, isn’t he?”

Eilan sighed heavily, turning red and wishing a rift would just open up under his feet already. 

Josephine laughed. “Perhaps my ears deceive me. Are you jealous, Dorian?”

Dorian sniffed at the absurdity of the suggestion. “Jealous of whom? The two utterly hopeless and entirely unremarkable Ferelden mages I see before me? Hardly.”

“One wonders what is it about Tevinter that causes so many of those fleeing its borders to never stop playing the Opposite Game,” Hawke mused.

“One wonders if those from Ferelden ever stop talking. Now. Let’s get to work.”

The dancing practice went well enough. Hawke was actually quite quiet and seemed preoccupied once they started in earnest, but she offered encouragement when it was needed. Josephine and Dorian, however, had nothing but criticism. 

“Do I even want to know?” Cullen asked bringing in several reports.

Hawke smiled, stopping and forcing Eilan to stop as well. “No, but I can promise you I’m not attempting to steal another mage out from under your nose. Though I must admit to being tempted. He’s so sweet. No wonder you think he’s the Herald of Andraste.”

Eilan laughed. “I’m not as…”

“Not as good as all that? It’s hard to believe.”

Cullen rolled his eyes. “I would sincerely love to see you try to steal Trevelyan away.”

Hawke continued smiling. “You know, the… What is he now? Captain? Commodore?” 

“He’s my Commander,” Eilan said fondly.

“Right. You know, the Commander might be a more fitting partner. He’s going, isn’t he? You’ve only to look at the man to know he’s got two left feet.”

Cullen set the reports down on Josephine’s desk, straightening them quickly and heading for the door.

“Oh, come on now, Cullen. I’ve been pulling my weight around here. You should have to help out too.”

“What is it you think I do here, exactly?”

“Brood, I suppose? Tell me honestly. Would you rather file paperwork or learn to dance?”

“Is this a trick question? Paperwork. Obviously.”

Hawke shook her head. “Fine. Would you rather file boring, tedious, ne’er-ceasing paperwork all alone with nary a soul to care if you should get a really nasty papercut and die under a stack of it? Or would you like to dance with this sweet, innocent young man who is silently yearning to be swept into your manly embrace?”

Cullen scowled. “Maker’s Breath.”

“That’s what I thought. Come on then. Take over, there’s a good man. I’ve got a dwarf to find and some coins to win back.”

“You don’t have to,” Eilan said as Cullen stalked over to him. 

“Oh, it’s not…” Cullen irritably muttered something under his breath as Hawke left. Once she was gone, he kissed Eilan’s cheek. “It’s not the choice of partner. It’s dancing at all.”

“I could dance with the Inquisitor,” Josephine said, looking amused. 

“No need,” Cullen said, stiffly. “I might as well learn. I’d like to avoid tripping all over myself and accidentally starting a war once we’re there.”

“Of course, Commander.”

Several attempt at dancing were met with alarmed eyebrow raising from Josephine and pronounced nose scrunching from Dorian. These facial tics were accompanied by various sounds ranging from bewildered laughter to abject horror. 

Cullen scowled after a while, insisting he had work to do. And that Eilan had the same.

“Very well, provided Eilan returns. You just…” Josephine sighed heavily. “Commander, when we’re at Halamshiral, you’re to find a spot to stand in. You are to remain there. Permanently.” 

“Pretend to be a handsome houseplant if it helps,” Dorian advised. “There will be no avoiding war if you move about the place.”

Cullen chuckled once they were safely out the door. “There’s nothing quite like being told you’re absolutely dreadful at something you have no desire to be good at. It’s quite satisfying, actually.”

“You could have done worse.”

“I could have?”

“...well, no. I suppose not.” Eilan said, frowning a little as he thought more about the Winter Palace and the Ball. “Do you think Bull knows how to dance?”

“It’s possible. Why?”

“I’ll have to chat up all kinds of Orlesians, and Hawke said I might have to seduce a few of them for keys and… it would be nice to have something to look forward to. Like dancing with someone I actually enjoy being around.”

Cullen sighed heavily before tugging Eilan to him. “Very well. Show me how it’s done. I’ll make more of an effort for your sake.”

*

Their time in the Western Approach had been as busy and involved as ever. However, there had been a great deal of waiting around at different camp sites waiting for word from Skyhold or scouts. Thanks to bandits, venatori, phoenixes, darkspawn, and one Draconology Professor named Frederic, there was still plenty of racing around getting things done. 

“Oh, of course, let’s empty out traps only to fill them again,” Dorian groused. He had been a sour mood ever since the Still Ruins, and he was more than a little displeased by how long it was taking Hawke to join them. The Tevinter mage had hoped she’d show up long before they could actually complete more dragon-related tasks. 

“Maker knows we didn’t have anything better to do with our time,” he added, crossing his arms as Eilan moved on to the next trap. “It wasn’t enough that we rounded up an ancient tome, research materials, scales, feathers, bandits, and all manner of trivialities. No, let’s end this ridiculous series of irritating quests doing the exact opposite of what we did mere days ago.”

“These lures are different,” Eilan insisted, privately feeling that Dorian wasn’t entirely wrong. “Somewhat.”

“I am certain they are the exact same kind as the White Claws placed into them. And don’t think I haven’t noticed that you are doing all of the manual labor while that idiot stands there gaping at the skies and grinning.”

“Bull wouldn’t be very good at this.”

“At least I am the one helping,” Cassandra pointed out. “You are simply complaining as per usual and telling us where to place these horrible smelling things.”

“For the record, I offered to help,” Varric insisted. “There’s just not that much work to spread around.”

“Hey, the dragon’s gonna show up any minute,” Bull said cheerfully. “I’m just keeping an eye out.”

“Remind me to tell you about the Bone Pit once this is over with.”

“Sounds like a great story already.”

Eilan ignored them, setting down the final piece of bait. He wished he’d brought more of his companions with, but they hadn’t seemed all that enthusiastic. This hadn’t stopped him from dragging a protesting Dorian along with him, of course. Besides, if he left Dorian behind, he had a feeling the man would simply brood in a tent.

“There it is. Your precious dragon. Just in time to ruin a perfectly decent day,” Dorian muttered, looking up at the sky.

“It’ll be a perfectly decent day after we kill it,” Eilan insisted, putting up barriers on the other party members.

“Today is already a good day,” Bull said, still grinning. “It’s a very good day.”

“We all remember how this is going to work?” Eilan asked.

Dorian sighed heavily. “As if I could forget. You’re looking after Cassandra, I’m looking after Bull, and Varric’s looking after Varric.”

“Hey!”

“We’ll both look after Varric,” Eilan said as the dwarf glared at them. “Myself in particular.” 

The only reason they’d divided up the two warriors was that it seemed the easiest way to not be left without at least one of them standing at a time. As much as Eilan loved working with everyone, he’d develop the most battle synergy with the other mages, Cassandra, Blackwall, and Varric. From time to time he could get in sync with Cole, but it rarely lasted.

“You’d better,” Varric said. “Messing around with dragons was not on my to-do list.”

The abyssal high dragon soared high overhead, blocking out parts of the sun with its red body before it was obscured by dark desert winds. Eventually it landed on the stone arch near them, roaring before moving again, landing a short distance away. Pillars crumbled as it touched the ground. 

The dragon roared again, revealing its green underbelly, neck arching up and wings pushing out. As its face loomed down at them, Eilan understood what Cole meant about Bull having dragon horns. 

It swiped out with its claws and Eilan flinched back minutely. He wasn’t sure this was exciting as he’d hoped or Bull seemed to think. But he needed the practice because he was sure this was far from his last dragon encounter. And it would surely help with Corypheus’ archdemon.

The battle was long and difficult. They ran out of potions early on as well as tonics. No amount of bees seemed to make a bit of difference, which was… Well, not entirely surprising. Bees could only sting once as Dorian angrily pointed out. 

Bull seemed thrilled by it all, laughing as the dragon breathed fire directly in his face and calling out long sentences in Qunlat. Dorian cursed him out in Tevene, but he continued to throw up barriers and toss potions at the ‘massive jackass he’d been put in charge of.’

Cassandra seemed pleased in a quieter sort of way. Dragon hunting was in her blood. Eilan couldn’t help but wonder if she was thinking of her brother.

It was certainly a tense situation in a number of ways. The dragon’s head was difficult for the warriors to reach. It would rear back on its hind legs, slamming down and throwing off everyone’s aim. 

When it started beating it wings, it was difficult to concentrate on anything save clawing at the sand to keep from being dragged closer. A fairly futile endeavor. Yet as he gritted his teeth and fade-stepped away from swiping claws, Eilan felt pretty good. 

As the dragon weakened, it all seemed fairly exhilarating. Gone were concerns about tasks he had yet to accomplish. Faced with an enormous formidable foe, he felt deeply connected to his magic and the others around him. He felt focused and revitalized. His goal and his intentions one and the same: kill the damned beast before it could kill him.

Eilan wasn’t plotting or serving as distraction as he had been in the past. This was much different and better than contending with the archdemon all but breathing down his neck while Corypheus had held him in the air. While he had quite a ways to go, he’d grown and he’d changed.

When the dragon finally crashed to the sand, taking out yet another pillar, he felt near invincible. How they’d managed it seemed entirely a matter of luck and stubbornness but it still a victory. If they could accomplish this feat and others like it, what couldn’t they do? If he himself could do this, if he could open a rift on top of a dragon as he froze its massive legs one last time, what else could he do?

Eilan grinned as he watched Bull get back to his feet. 

Dorian was scowling, wiping furious at the sand covering his robes. “That was absolutely terrible. Next time please consider leaving me at home and bringing Solas.”

“Bring me next time then,” Varric said with a grin. “I want to see the look on his face.”

Cassandra put her sword through the dragon’s flank, sawing away at its tough scales. “We should take as much with as we can carry. Soldiers can be sent for the rest. I imagine you’ll want the head.”

“...Why?”

“You can have it stuffed and mounted. It would be a fine trophy for the throne room.”

Eilan made a face, unable to tell if she was joking or not. He blinked and laughed when Bull all but tackled him into a hug. “You’re all right?”

“Fucking fantastic,” Bull said, embracing the mage tightly. His grip loosened when Eilan winced. “You got hurt?”

“A little battered and bruised. Nothing a potion, a tonic, that bottle of whatever we found this morning, and a very long bath won’t cure.” Eilan smiled as Bull started kissing him. “What about you? You went down a number of times and now…” He wiped at the Qunari’s cheek and then at his forehead. “You’re a bit singed.”

“Yeah,” Bull murmured happily in between kisses. “But that’s just part of the fun. Why fight a fire-breathing dragon if you’re doing to duck out of the way when it breathes fire?”

“I honestly don’t know how to answer that.”

“Mm,” Bull kissed Eilan’s temple and then his cheek. “You’re the best, and that was awesome. You even got the last hit in. I saw that before I noticed I was kind of standing where the dragon’s corpse was heading. But Dorian threw up a barrier at the last second so that was great too.”

“If you say so,” Eilan said, more than a little amused.

“I wonder what this guy’s got stored up somewhere,” Bull said. He tugged Eilan along with him as he wandered over to the dragon. “I bet you had all kinds of fancy shit, didn’t you?”

“Another quest,” Dorian muttered. “Hooray.”

“Here. Look at me.” Bull let Eilan go as he pressed a hand to the dragon’s neck. It came away bloody and he seemed pleased by that too. He sniffed at his palm, confirming some sort of suspicion. “Close your eyes for a second.”

Eilan did so before frowning. “Wait. What are you…” Bull’s large hand pressed itself to his face then drew away, presumably leaving a bloody handprint behind. Eilan opened his eyes, laughing. “Oh. Really, Bull.”

“Hey, it was your idea first. And give me a little credit, boss. I checked to make sure it wasn’t poisoned,” Bull pointed out, brushing a bloody thumb over Eilan’s lower lip, leaving a small stripe. He added another under Eilan’s left eye. Then under his right. “There. You look good like that. A fierce little warrior mage. Wait until I get you alone.”

“Yeah, might want to try actually waiting then,” Varric muttered, joining them. “Inquisitor… Can we hurry up and find the dragon’s lair before he gets any weirder?”

*

After finally discovering the dragon’s horde and packing up their rewards, they made their way to Griffin Wing Keep where they still had to sort out the water supply. The Inquisition’s work was almost never entirely done, but they dealt with the varghests relatively quickly. It wasn’t solely because they’d all been hoping for baths --and quite loudly in some cases-- but it was another incentive.

Knight-Captain Rylan had given them all an odd look, particularly Eilan, until they told him about the abyssal high dragon. Then the man seemed to understand. If he did not approve, he did not say as much. Doubtlessly because disapproving of someone who had just killed a dragon was unwise. Eilan also suspected Bull had glared at the man the entire time.

Bath finally taken and over with, Eilan retired to the room he’d been given. Outside of small large gaping holes in the roof, it seemed adequate. Unlike at Skyhold where Bull sort of wandered in and out of his quarters as he pleased, the Qunari only joined him later in the evening.

“Still got that blood on ya.”

“I figured if it does something for you--”

“It does but we can get get rid of it,” Bull murmured, lightly shoving Eilan up against a wall. “Unless you really want to keep it?”

Eilan smiled. “I’m good either way.” 

Bull grunted. “Keep it then.”

Eilan groaned a bit when the Qunari nipped at his neck. “Do I only get this when we kill dragons?”

“Nah. You’re stuck with me. You still want to celebrate the dragon properly?”

Eilan blushed. “I’d like to give it a try.”

“Hm. New and better question: Do you want to have sex with me now or would you rather wait? I’m good with either choice you make, kadan, but you’re making a choice. We’re not trying for anything. We’re either succeeding or we’re giving it some time. We can do those things together.”

Eilan considered this carefully before smiling. “I want to have sex with you. Now.”

“Let’s go over our rules then. I’m in charge unless you say otherwise. I’ve got you. You don’t have to worry about anything so long as you feel comfortable with where this is going. If you don’t feel comfortable or you want me to stop, you have to let me know. You do that by saying what?”

“Katoh.”

“New rule is you don’t hold back. I won’t strictly enforce that one tonight because you won’t be able to manage it at first. Just try not to over-think anything. Just be in this moment with me. Just this moment.”

“Just this moment,” Eilan repeated, liking the idea immensely even if he wasn’t sure he could stop thinking entirely. He sighed happily when Bull took his wrists in his hands, gasping as he was scooped up. “I can manage that.”

He was shy when it came to shedding his clothes, hesitantly following Bull’s lead, but it all seemed nearly perfect. The bare contact felt right and better. He had no idea what he was doing but Bull did and as long as he followed the Qunari’s example he was fine. 

Thinking wasn’t entirely a possibility after a while. Bull’s hands were stroking his bare chest as he kissed a trail of kisses along Eilan’s shoulder. Hot breath on his skin made him shiver in a way he had never had before. Low, fond murmurs in his ears insistently coaxed more sounds from his lips. Fingers wrapped around Eilan’s length, teasing him hard. Once Eilan could do little but sink against the mattress with a shaky, happy sigh, there were warm, slick fingers inside of him. 

After that, Bull prepped himself, slowly removing fingers and replacing them with something more substantial. Then there were slow, gentle thrusts. Bull only sped up his movements once Eilan was willing to beg for it. And he’d begged quite a bit. When it ended, Eilan lay there, all but hiding his face in the pillows beneath them. He was a bit bewildered by his own contentment and yet so very thankful for it.

“What about… What about you?” Eilan asked somewhat breathlessly. “Was that…?”

“I’m pretty sure that did the trick for both of us,” Bull said. His fingers buried themselves in Eilan’s hair as the Qunari kissed Eilan’s neck. Those fingers stayed where they were as Bull’s lips moved down to Eilan’s shoulders and back. “Not that I’m done with you. We’re not close to done, kadan. But it’s definitely been a good day.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm mostly over being sick so here's an update at long last! Thanks for being so understanding. Updates this week should take place on Thursday and then on Saturday. 
> 
> This one's a bit of a longer chapter, but I thought it only made sense to follow two Cullen sections with two Bull sections. All of the botany/herb-related talk comes from codexes you can find in Dragon Age 2. Here's a [link](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Codex:_Lore).
> 
> I will be posting more fic-related babble to [my tumblr](http://cruelestmonth.tumblr.com/post/108023103280/fic-babble-that-never-ends) tonight and probably later this week. I have more ideas for additions to this and a lot of bunnies for other fics.


	21. Chapter 21

*

In the morning, Hawke arrived at the Keep, and Cullen had traveled with her. 

There wasn’t much time before they needed to leave but Eilan still pulled Cullen aside. Not back to his rooms from the previous night, but to the room the others had been using where he could kiss the Commander properly. They had agreed they weren’t keeping what they had secret, but Eilan wasn’t fond of an audience even if it was made up of friends.

After they kissed, they curled up on the sofa. Eilan had crawled into Cullen’s lap, facing him so he could nuzzle at the other man’s neck. 

Cullen pulled him closer and smiled. “I have some things for you.”

“In addition to another kiss?”

Cullen smiled. “Yes.” He kissed Eilan soundly once the mage tilted his chin up. When it was over, he put his arms around the mage’s waist. “I’m sure you’ve already found more than enough, but ten pieces of lazurite have been given to Commander Helaine. She eagerly awaits your return.”

“That’s excellent. I had gathered some but we needed it for surveys and other things. And it seemed wrong not to let your people collect it. I’d like to thank them personally back at Skyhold.”

“As you like, Inquisitor. They were only too glad to do it.”

“What else do you have?”

Cullen reached over to the satchel he’d left on the table, pulling out a blue cloth wrapped around something. Something book shaped and significantly hefty.

Eilan removed the cloth and smiled. 

“The Botanical Compendium by Ines Her-last-name-escapes-me. It’s a signed copy.”

“Really?”

“Really. I know you can’t bring this everywhere you go, but you said it was comforting. And... As hard as it is for me to feel strongly when it comes to plants, I care that you care. Or, to be more honest, I care about the way your eyes light up when you’re talking about them.” Cullen smiled a bit ruefully. “Although I never anticipated being so jealous of so varieties of herbs.”

Eilan kissed Cullen’s cheek and then his scar. “Cullen, this is… This is really sweet of you. Thank you.”

“I asked Dorian initially to see if he could rummage one up, but apparently we didn’t have either edition at Skyhold.” 

“Either edition? There’s a new one?”

“Yes, it just came out. There was… a demand… of some kind,” Cullen said in a skeptical tone. “Please assure Dorian that I honored his request and there is an additional, unsigned copy for the library.”

“I will.”

“I must admit that it was nice to carry about with me. Bulky though it is.”

“Oh?”

“Oh yes,” Cullen murmured, kissing Eilan’s neck. “It’s perfect for killing giant spiders, a number of which we ran across in several mines on our way here. Then, when I couldn’t fall asleep, all I had to do was open up the section on Embrium, and I was out like a light.”

“That first part didn’t happen.”

“Of course not. I understand that I must treat books with care and dignity.”

“Dorian’s influence?”

“In a way,” Cullen admitted. “It’s a lot easier for everyone if no one gives the man a hard time when it comes to tomes of any kind. The second one didn’t happen either.”

“I should say not. The section on Embrium is very finely worded.”

“I’m sure that it is. I will also risk Dorian’s ire and treat that book quite poorly if you start flipping through it while I’m here.”

Eilan laughed, lightly tossing the book to the mattress behind them. “Right you are, Commander.”

“There is one more thing. There’s a piano for you back at Skyhold. It wasn’t very hard to get it transported from the Emerald Graves. It wasn’t even a costly venture thanks to Josephine. I’m not sure what she did but it was helpful.”

“Who told you about the piano?”

“Dorian mentioned it in his letter along with ideas of where to find that book for you.”

“That was good of him.”

“In fairness, it’s possible Sera mentioned it as well but… I’m at the point where I pitch the notes she sends me. I only enjoy nonsense if it comes from you.”

Eilan laughed.

“Anyway, I was struggling to come up with a gift, particularly as you receive so few of them. I debated asking Bull, but it seemed strange considering I’m sure if he had ideas he would use them himself. So it was better to ask someone else. Dorian gave me some ideas. He said that courting ought to be a very grand affair or nothing at all. I was inclined to agree.”

“I’ll have to thank him,” Eilan said with a smile.

“You’re thinking about something. Is it pun-related?”

“I am. It is.”

“Well?”

“Dorian said my getting a piano was part of a grand affair. So… Would you say that Dorian was instrumental in these arrangements? That perhaps by composing his letter, he orchestrated the entire thing?”

Cullen laughed, shaking his head. “First, let me beg you to stop. Then let me say that I love you.”

Eilan blushed, smiling as he kissed Cullen again. “I love you too. You didn’t need to do all of this to--”

“I know, which is why I can tell you and why I wanted to do all of this. It’s a relief to be enough in of myself, but that only makes me want to do more. Not because you’ll leave. Because you’d stay no matter what.”

*

As they prepared to meet up with Stroud, Eilan found Dorian. 

The Tevinter mage accepted the hug he got with a long-suffering sigh. “Oh, for… What now, Inquisitor?”

“You complain all of the time. You don’t like any sort of work, manual or otherwise. You seem to prefer books to people a majority of the time. You are also very prickly in bad weather or in the morning--”

“I realize I am ridiculously irresistible to you but… Am I really being embraced due to my flaws?”

“Let me finish. You are all those things, but you, Dorian Pavus, are the very best sort of friend.”

“Cullen told you,” Dorian muttered darkly. “ _Kaffas_.”

“Was he not supposed to?”

“Not if you’re out here hugging me.” Dorian sighed heavily. “The man is ridiculous. The whole purpose behind my help was for you to thank _him_ profusely. He might have thanked me later if he had to. Giving me credit and letting you come out here to throw yourself at me… You should be throwing yourself at him. Snogging or something. Running to me defeats the entire purpose of… What?”

“I…” Eilan blushed. “Believe me… I did plenty with him.”

“Ah. Then you’re welcome. Now,” Dorian said, gently prying Eilan off of him. “On to a more important matter. Did Cullen happen to purchase a second copy?”

“Yes. It’s in the library.”

Dorian grinned. “Excellent. I hadn’t thought of that particular book in a very long time. I’m anxious to re-read it. Particularly the passages relevant to Orlais.”

“When you’re done and I’m done, can we discuss it?”

“What book are you two talking about?” Varric asked as he joined them.

“The Botanical Compendium,” Eilan said.

Varric raised an eyebrow. “By Ines Arcania?”

“You’ve read it?”

“Pieces of it. Even in Kirkwall people were always leaving notes all over the place about things. I liked her stuff. A bit dry in places, but she was always mentioning some dead or evil guy who used a plant to murder someone. Who doesn’t like that?”

“I suppose that’s a fair point.”

“If a morbid one,” Dorian put in.

“So. Can I join your book club? For research purposes?” Varric asked.

“Research purposes?”

“I haven’t seen this weirdly academic side of you before, Inquisitor. Besides, it’s been awhile since I heard someone talk about a book with such enthusiasm that wasn’t one I’d written myself. So color me curious and intrigued.”

Eilan considered this. “If you read the book, yes you may join us. And not just choice passages either. Consider it part of your research.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Inquisitor. All right.”

“Really?”

“Really. Maybe it’ll help. I was thinking of writing a mystery series. Something without a rogue or warrior as the main character. Maybe it can be about two mages who use their specialized skills to solve crimes. One is a botanist, the other is a herbalist. With each case and like twining vines, they grow closer and closer to one another. But, like a resilient demonic weed, a Qunari assassin, well-versed in murder, mayhem, and poisons, threatens their blossoming love. And occasionally their lives.”

“I’d read it,” Hawke said as she joined them.

“Sounds like a piece of shit,” Bull said, crossing his arms. He loomed over the dwarf briefly before crossing over to Eilan. “No offense, Varric.”

Varric snorted. “How could I take offense to such clever criticism?”

*

Stroud was waiting for them at the entrance to yet another Tevinter ruin. In addition to Hawke, Eilan had brought along Blackwall, Cassandra, Bull, and Varric. He’d left the others at the Keep after bidding Cullen farewell. The Commander was staying long enough to sort out some other issues for his men, but Eilan was certain he’d be gone before they returned. 

"I'm glad you made it, Inquisitor,” Stroud said. “I fear they've already started the ritual."

Hawke sighed, sniffing distastefully. "Blood magic, I'd wager. You can practically smell it."

Eilan lead the way over the bridge to a set of stone staircase. Dead bodies were strewn along the base and there were more further up. Along with them were Grey Wardens and several sloth demons.

“Wait,” a Grey Warden was saying. “No.”

In front of him strode a Tevinter mage clad in red armor and a white coat. "Warden-Commander Clarel's orders were clear."

"This is wrong."

"Remember your oath: In War, Victory. In Peace, Vigilance. In Death... Sacrifice."

Another Grey Warden crept up behind his brother-in-arms. The doubting Warden was stabbed and a green rift opened. It grew larger as he fell to the ground, blood and fire mingling in the air. Out of that sprang a Rage Demon, howling angrily.

"Good. Now bind it, just as I showed you."

Green light poured from the murderous Warden's hand. The Tevinter mage's hand was glowing red. The Rage Demon pounded the stone floor, helpless to attack. Something changed although Eilan couldn't see it from the distance. 

He felt the new, terrible bond between demon and Grey Warden mage. And he felt an odd albeit brief surge of pity for the demon. Solas’ or Cole’s influence. He knew it was a weakness in certain circumstances and one that he couldn’t afford, but at the moment if felt like a strength. His ability to realize how wrong this was by feeling sorry for the demon acting as a reminder that he needed to face the group ahead. To attack and kill them all if need be to stop rituals like this from spreading. He only hoped some of the men -- if not all of them-- were merely misguided. 

"Why is it always fucking demons," Bull muttered. Eilan glanced at him. His eye seemed twitchy as he glanced at the Grey Wardens and their demons.

Blackwall seemed grimmer than ever. The others were about the same. This was not what they expected, but it wasn’t any sort of improvement over what they might have thought to find.

As they moved closer, Eilan could see the red glow just under the Warden's eyes. A second set of eyes belonging to the creature he’d binded to his will. The Rage Demon followed him out of the way as they continued their approach.

"Inquisitor,” the Tevinter mage said. “What an unexpected pleasure. Lord Livius Erimond of Vyrantium, at your service." He offered up a bow before sighing. “And you must be the Warden. The one Clarel let slip. And you found the Inquisitor and came to stop me. Shall we see how that goes?”

"Wardens," Eilan said. Privately he doubted his words would reach them, but he had to try. "This man is lying to you. He serves an ancient Tevinter magister who wants to unleash a Blight. You undo your own hard work by aiding him as well as that of your brothers- and sisters-in-arms."

The Grey Wardens glanced at him but they had a second set of red, glowing eyes just like the other one.

"That's a very serious accusation. Let's see what the Wardens think. Wardens, hands up. Hands down."

They obeyed the commands mindlessly, without hesitation. And the actions made Eilan want to turn away. To run back down the steps and away from the ruins. But they also made him pity the Wardens. They made him want to kill the smirking mage in front of him. 

A mage using other mages like so many puppets, abusing them as badly as any templar could. Was this how things were in Tevinter? Did the entire world have to be full of ruthless, morally bankrupt people bent on using others for their own purposes? 

"Corypheus has taken their minds," Stroud said.

But Corypheus could only succeed if others helped him and many very human people had opted to take up his cause. Erimond. Samson. Alexius. Even Fiona had played her part.

"They did this to themselves,” Erimond said.

"You did this to them."

"I may have helped, but they did this. The Calling had the Wardens terrified, you see. They looked everywhere for help."

“Even Tevinter.”

“Yes, and since it was my master who put the Calling into their little heads, we in the Venatori were prepared. I went to Clarel, full of sympathy, and together we came up with a plan… Raise a demon army, march into the Deep Roads, and kill the Old Gods before they wake.”

Clarel. Someone he could blame in addition to the man in front of him and the monster he’d tried to bury in Haven. Eilan couldn't blame the Grey Wardens here, the young men with red eyes and nothing left inside. Young men who were so close to his own age. 

Even if they had made the choices that led them to this dark, bloody moment, they had done so with the corrupting influence of others. He could blame their leader and those who had worked against them from the start.

Maybe it was wishful thinking, maybe he just couldn’t believe that only Blackwall and Stroud were Wardens capable of remorse and guilt, but he couldn’t stand to think the opposite was true. He wanted to believe these mages were like him, like his companions. That if they were ever free of this influence, ever able to think again for themselves... Eilan knew what that was like. He hadn't chosen the Rite, but he imagined the end result, the return of the freedom to think and be, would lead to the same miserable feeling inside.

He understood too that desperation lead to poor decisions. He understood the pressures that weighed on those deciding not just for themselves but a legion of other people. But he couldn’t understand how any circumstance would allow him to lead those who worked for and served him into a situation like this. 

And he’d seen the work of desperate leaders like Fiona. Clarel had just as poorly by her people only the consequences of that decision were manifesting before his eyes as they never had done with the mages. And so what Clarel had allowed to pass, what she’d approved of, seemed infinitely, absolutely worse. 

“Sadly for the Wardens, the binding ritual I taught them has a side effect. They're now my master's slaves. What you've witnessed here is a test. Once the rest of the Wardens complete the ritual, the army will conquer Thedas."

This was met by silence. Eilan was warring with his own thoughts and his rising anger. Did Corypheus really think having some minion tell him over and over again to blame the Grey Wardens would work? Did the Magister honestly believe he couldn’t see what they were trying to do by throwing every group into a -- or adding to an already existing-- crazed sort of chaos? None of it would work, and it wouldn’t stop him from preventing a disaster at Halamshiral either.

“Have you anything to say, Inquisitor?” Erimond asked, raising an eyebrow.

Eilan mentally shrugged off his thoughts and focused back on Erimond. “What is there to say?” he asked, folding his arms. “Should I be impressed by the depths to which depraved men and mages will sink to exploit and harm those who sought only to devote their lives in the service of others? Should I be surprised by what you’ve told me?” 

It should be enough that I can be bothered to so much as listen to you. I am no one’s minion lacking both in ambition and morality. I am no smug, gloating underling who cannot stop his lips from moving. I am the Inquisitor. I came here to stop your demon army. I will stand between you and your Master. I will defend the people of Thedas.”

“And that definitely goes in the book,” Varric murmured. 

Erimond sighed. “You seem to misunderstand, Inquisitor. Everything you see here was done by the Wardens of their own free will. Fear is a good motivator, and they were very afraid.”

"That's a lie!” Blackwall interjected. “The Grey Wardens are heroes! They would never do this willingly!"

“The Grey Wardens care about nothing but stopping Blights. They will do anything to accomplish that."

“You used them!” Eilan growled out. “You use them still. What good is the word of a cowardly worm who continually assures me that his victims made a choice to be so abused? Know this, Lord Livius Erimond, the Inquisition will never condemn an entire group of people. Not based on the actions of the handful of parasites that call themselves the Venatori. I will not give up on the Grey Wardens even if this was a rational decision that they made, which I very much doubt. I will fight to keep even one potential ally, one solitary pawn, out of Corpyheus’ grasp. I will to destroy every piece of the empire he would build. So enough of this. Spare me your drivel. I will blame you. I will blame your Master. If you would be spared my wrath, do not talk to me of the free will and choices of others. Instead make a choice of your own. Release the Wardens from the binding and surrender. I won't ask twice.”

“No. You won’t.” Erimond's right hand pulsed a fierce red as he aimed it at Eilan.

Eilan gritted his teeth as the anchor in his left hand reacted. He fell to his knees, curling in on himself as the pain intensified.

"The Elder One showed me how to deal with you. In the event you were foolish enough to interfere again."

"The mark you bear? The anchor that lets you pass safely through the Veil? You stole that from my Master. He's been forced to seek other ways to access the Fade."

"Fucker loves to talk,” Bull said. “Stop shooting fireworks and fight, asshole."

Eilan struggled to his feet, aiming his glowing green hand back at the other mage. Whatever Erimond was doing, surely he could do the reverse. He wouldn't be bested by this man. He wouldn’t allow it.

"When I bring him your head, his gratitude will be--” Erimond yelped as green light exploded between them. 

When the light faded, sand swarmed in the wind and Erimond was lying on the ground. He got up quickly.

"Yeah?" Bull asked. "Because the way I see it… If we bring him your useless head, I bet he'd be pretty happy too."

"Kill them!" the Tevinter mage yelled, limping away.

Grey Wardens and demons moved forward. It was more than regrettable, but Eilan couldn't think about that. He could only throw up a barrier, concentrating first on the demons before taking out whatever Wardens he could.

*

Once the brief battle was over, Eilan walked through the bodies, looking at the Wardens. If he silently apologized to them, if he wanted to remember them --not as mindless monsters or desperate fools-- as people he'd failed to save, it was no one's business but his own. 

In that moment, Eilan didn’t care about what the future would reveal about Clarel or other Senior Wardens. He cared only about the people under their command. The people he’d killed who had died without a thought in their head. These mages who had been told by someone they believed in, someone they trusted, that this was the right thing to do. He knew what it was like to be used. He knew what it was like to be afraid, and how much worse it felt when someone took that feeling away. He knew what it was like when desperate people made decisions. 

When he joined the others, Bull put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Did you rehearse all that back there?” Varric asked. “Because damn. You getting good at this.”

Eilan touched Bull’s with his own and smiled at the dwarf. 

"You were also correct,” Stroud said. “Through their ritual, the mages are slaves to Corypheus."

"And the Warden Warriors?” Hawke asked. “...Oh, of course. It's not real blood magic until someone gets sacrificed."

Eilan sighed. "They were trying to prevent future Blights. I am not sure what we will learn about Clarel or the other leaders of the Grey Wardens, but most of them will be like these mages we killed. People who were lied to. People who wanted to fulfill oaths and be heroes."

"With blood magic and human sacrifice."

"The Wardens were wrong, Hawke,” Stroud said, “but they had their reasons."

"All blood mages do.”

“They've been hearing the Calling non-stop and relentlessly,” Eilan pointed out. “Feeling a dark urge to go and kill themselves in the Deep Roads. How can you make a right decision if you aren't entirely yourself? How can you take back a mistake or prevent it if that mistake turns you into something else?”

“Everyone has a story they tell themselves to justify their bad decisions... and it never matters. In the end, you’re always alone with your actions. I don’t see Blackwall or Stroud heading for the Deep Roads. Aren’t they hearing the Calling too?” 

“And yet you sought safe haven for your brother for fear of what the Calling would make him do. He needed your protection and he got it. Where is the shame in that? As for the Wardens with us now, they have the advantage of being strong, determined warriors. Blackwall has me. Stroud has you. Or he ought to. Surely he’s earned your friendship and trust by now.”

Without waiting for an answer, Eilan walked away from them. His interest in prolonging the argument evaporating just like the demons had. He didn’t want to repeat himself or correct their opinions. He would keep his own though. He wouldn’t change it simply because those around him disagreed.

He waited outside of the ruin, leaning against an archway and wishing things were as simple as everyone could be blamed for everything that happened to them.

“Stroud has earned my friendship and my trust,” Hawke said joining him. “Other people have too. You can think what you like and… I am sure there is truth to what you said back there, Eilan… But what you went through--”

“It’s very different but very much the same. It wasn’t my hand that turned me Tranquil, but just because they held the knife doesn’t mean they weren’t lead to it. I wouldn’t absolve them of guilt, not after what we saw and all we can surmise. I know they all bear responsibility and it was, if only in part, their choice. But this sort of desperation… This is what Corypheus is doing all over Thedas. He is getting to the leaders that everyone follows, people they listened to and trusted. What the Grey Wardens are now… Right now, they’re someone else’s victims just as surely as that boy they killed was theirs.”

“There is truth in that as well.”

Eilan looked back towards the others who were slowly filtering towards them. “What they did and plan to do is wrong. What they did will tarnish their reputations and that of all Grey Wardens. Possibly forever. They will remember. The ones we can save from the rituals already performed or prevent from pursuing this horrendous course of action will remember. Either way, and no matter what, you are right. They will be left alone with their actions and their consequences. There can be no greater burden than that.”

“So you hope,” Hawke said with a sigh. “That is, it would be that way for you or for me. For Blackwall. For Stroud. For Carver. But if you think all Grey Wardens are like that deep down… They aren’t.”

“Not all of them, no. I’m sure some of them must be.”

“It is all very well to think highly of those you encounter. I admire your resolve to think that behind every terrible decision, there’s a person who will one day come to regret what they did. A person who will learn from their mistakes or stop others from doing the same. But sometimes it doesn’t work out.”

As if he didn’t know that. “I think there is a possibility,” Eilan said calmly. “I hope that I will be right. I cannot think that everyone is one bad, false, or poor step away from becoming at best like those Wardens, at worst Corypheus, or something in-between like Erimond. If anything, I’d prefer to believe the opposite. It won’t always work. I know that, but sometimes it does work.”

Hawke was quiet for a moment. When Eilan turned to look at her, she was looking away, out over the sand dunes. “I suppose it does at that.”

“What’s important is not losing sight of what’s at stake. I know that. Corypheus is undermining the mages, the templars, and now the Grey Wardens. It’s also possible he has corrupted the Seekers and other members of the Chantry. He also plans on assassinating the Empress of Orlais. He wants chaos, he wants despair, and he wants division. I won’t be allow the Inquisition to falter based on the advice or desires of our enemies. I won’t throw away the possibility of another alliance or give up on the Grey Wardens without cause.”

“And if it ends up there is nothing we can do for them?”

“It won’t,” Eilan said firmly. “I know I’m new to this, and I have no trouble with your opinion differing from mine. But if there’s one lesson I’ve learned from all of this, it’s that there is always a myriad of things that need doing.”

Hawke offered up a small smile.

The others joined them. 

“Stroud and I will scout out Adamant and confirm that the other Wardens are there. We'll meet you back at Skyhold," Hawke said.

Eilan nodded. “Safe journey,” he said before watching them depart. 

“I can’t be like Hawke,” Eilan said, sometime later as he was walking next to Varric. 

They were heading back to Griffin Wing Keep. Then to the Exalted Plains before heading back to Ferelden. Eilan was also hoping they could check on the Seekers at Caer Oswin. Back at Skyhold, a lot of planning would need to take place. He’d be able to begin his Knight-Enchanter training in earnest.

“No one else can.”

“Is it disappointing?”

“Is what disappointing?”

“Following me around instead.”

“No. It’s different, sure, but it’s working out just fine. It’s not like anyone else could be you either.” 

Eilan hesitated then he smiled. “Thanks, Varric.”

“I should thank you. You’re fun to watch when you’re handling the bad guys who won’t shut up. You go from being this sweet kid who wants to understand everyone’s side of the story to this stern guy that no one wants to mess with. Brings back good memories.”

“I can’t help feeling like I bring back bad ones as well.”

“That’s not you. Bad ones tend to follow Hawke around.”

“And you?”

Varric shrugged. “Bad ones seem to like me, but don't worry. You bring me plenty of good ones. If you really want to do something for me, keep in mind that the more red lyrium we get rid of, the happier I’ll be.”

“Very well.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thursday! The next update should be on Saturday. 
> 
> I'm currently working on more chapters for this and starting a 4th google doc (because after 100 pages, google docs tend to break on me.) I am also brainstorming ideas for the Dragon Age Big Bang which will probably be Varric/Maevaris Tilani-related. More on that and other things coming up for this fic can be found [here](http://cruelestmonth.tumblr.com/post/108023103280/fic-babble-that-never-ends).


	22. Chapter 22

*

The Exalted Plains had been as complicated as any other location. In between restoring order to fortresses, they encountered a Dalish clan and reclaimed old Elven ruins. After leaving the others at camp, Eilan accompanied Solas to locate his friend. 

Once they finally found her, Eilan winced, wishing they hadn’t. 

“My friend,” Solas cried out as he spotted a greyish purple monster not too far off from where they stood. He growled, angrier than Eilan had ever seen him get. 

“What should we do?”

Solas eyed him strangely. 

“Your friend was in trouble, you said. You would not become friends with a pride demon. And you’ve told me what happens to spirits who leave the Fade. So should be done?”

“It has been corrupted. Forced to act against its original purpose. What did they do, what did they do, what did they do?”

A lone, male mage approached them.

“Perhaps we should ask,” Solas said in a hostile tone.

"A mage! You're not with the bandits? Do you have any lyrium potions? Most of us are exhausted. We've been fighting that demon..."

"You summoned that demon! Except it was a spirit of wisdom at the time. You made it kill. You twisted it against its purpose."

"I... I... I understand how it might be confusing to someone who has not studied demons--"

"I am fairly certain that it would be confusing to anyone. You summoned a spirit and made it a demon only..." Eilan sighed. "Only you were hoping for a demon all along. A pride demon. What did you think would happen?"

“I can explain after you help us.”

“We’re not here to help you,” Solas insisted.

Eilan shook his head. “You need not explain anyway. If I want to understand demons or spirits, I will ask my friend here.”

"Listen to me! I was one of the foremost experts in the Kirkwall Circle--"

"Shut. Up," Solas said. "You summoned it to protect you from bandits."

"I-- Yes."

"You bound it to obedience, then commanded it to kill. That is when it turned. The summoning circle. We break it, we break the binding. No orders to kill, no conflict with its nature. No demon."

"What? The binding is the only thing keeping the demon from killing us! Whatever it was before, it is a monster now."

"You never thought of this beforehand?" Eilan asked angrily. "You never once suspected that summoning up a force you couldn’t help to contain or control would come with consequences? You, the foremost demon expert from Kirkwall?"

The mage eyed him imploringly. "You're... But you will help us?"

“I will do what I can to save Solas’ friend," Eilan announced. "And I’ll try to aid the rest of you.”

Rather than attacking her outright, they’d gone after ice pillars and then the summoning circle. In the end, she changed from a pride demon to a woman with violently glowing green eyes. Solas spoke to her in Elven while Eilan debated what to do with the mages who had done this. The spirit must have asked for death for soon she faded away.

Solas rose to his feet. “We gave it a moment’s peace before the end. That’s more than it might have had.” He turned to look behind Eilan. “All that remains now is them.”

“Thank you,” one of the mages said, “We would not have risked a summoning, but the roads are too dangerous to travel unprotected.”

Eilan considered the group uncertainly, ill-at-ease.

"You tortured and killed my friend," Solas said, advancing on them.

"We didn't know it was just a spirit! The book said it could help us!"

“Solas,” Eilan said. "Please." But he wasn't sure what he was asking for.

Solas eyed him thoughtfully with something like regret. “I am sorry, da’len. You need to leave. Now.”

Eilan felt a chill run down his spine as he tried to meet Solas’ gaze, but the elf was looking to the mages. His intentions perfectly clear and slightly terrifying. And yet understandable. Eilan closed his eyes briefly, having no desire to stop the other mage. But he was supposed to, wasn’t he? He was supposed to feel obligated to do something. “Solas, you cannot--”

“Run. If you must. Do not look back. Do not try to stop me.”

“You said you would help us,” one of them said in a plaintive tone.

“No. He said he would try.”

Without thinking, Eilan turned away. He raced across the plain as if to escape from whatever was about to happen. When he couldn’t hear anything except the racing his own heart, he stopped near the river. Crouching, He let his hand hang down between his legs and caught his breath, feeling nauseous. Not from running but from what he’d left behind.

He knew he should go back, stop Solas, and protect the other mages. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t because he didn’t want to stop Solas. He couldn’t because if he went back, he would have to try. He couldn’t go back because he understood. 

Nothing would have prevented Eilan from destroying anyone who harmed one of his friends let alone twisted her into a being that could not live on either side of the Veil. While he was not a spirit, he remembered that feeling in the Frostbacks. Of being uncertain of his own form and feeling the certainty of others creep under his skin, making him doubt. He had a choice then, the ability to keep from being literally twisted and shaped by others. He’d had Solas’ words to comfort and guide him. Solas’ spirit had not.

Any guilt at the role he’d played in the mages’ demise feeling faded away quickly as he caught his breath, which only made him feel all the more nauseous. The truth was he hadn’t felt much compassion for the mages or their plight. He couldn’t see them as clearly as he could the spirit’s suffering or Solas’ grief. He couldn’t feel the same pity and sadness that had swept over him when dealing with the Grey Wardens in the Western Approach. Even thinking of them now, of what must have become of them, he’d felt as close to nothing as he was able. 

Abandoning his boots on a ledge, he waded through the water gathering up spindleweed. There seemed to be an endless amount. Time felt just as infinite, and he willingly, gladly lost track of it. 

*

“Eilan. Come out of there.”

Solas. Eilan looked up at him.

“It will be dark soon. You must go to camp, and I will go--”

“No. Solas, I… I understand and I… I’m glad you made me leave, but I will not allow you to do the same. I couldn’t have let you do what you felt needed to be done. I would have had to try to stop you. Even with the way I feel now, I think that would have been worse.”

“I will go to Skyhold,” Solas said gently. “Come out of the water. Come here.”

Eilan did so, realizing the sun was starting to set. Suddenly he felt cold. He looked back at the water, to where he had been standing. Small and jagged shards of ice were sticking out of its surface.

“This is my doing. I am sorry,” Solas said. “Come and sit.”

Eilan moved to the grass. He sat down on rock, facing the water and looking down at the current.

Solas moved to him, pulling a worn, woolen blanket from his bag. He knelt down, using it to dry off Eilan’s toes.

“You don’t have to.”

“No, I do not,” Solas agreed. Once he was done, he moved on to the soles of Eilan’s. Then his ankles. Then his calves. “Perhaps it would have been your right to stop me from doing as I did. Perhaps I ought to have let you, but I could not have stood for it. Now I can endure. Now I must endure.”

“Is that what she said to you?”

“Some of it, yes, and more besides.”

“I don’t know how I should feel. What they did to her was so wrong. What you did to them seems only right. Yet I am not sure, and I think I ought to feel something for those mages. Only I don’t.”

“You might need to not feel anything at all. That happens sometimes.”

“Were the roles reversed…”

Solas exhaled sharply, sitting down next to him. He left the blanket wrapped around Eilan’s feet. “I would not have stood in your way.”

“Do you think less of me because I could not? I ran and--”

“No,” Solas said quietly. “I think very highly of you. I respect you deeply. It has been a long time since I felt that way.”

“You’re not that old.”

“Compared to you, I am positively ancient. This day has only made me feel that much older. Go to camp, da’len. I will not follow though I am not abandoning you.”

“Da’len?”

Solas smiled ruefully. “Child.”

“Oh honestly. If you respect me, how can you call me that?”

“How can I not?” Solas’ brushed a hand through Eilan’s hair as he got to his feet. “I need some time alone. I will see you at Skyhold. There is no need to worry about me.”

“I still might.”

“I would be surprised if you didn’t.”

Returning to camp, Eilan was startled to realize everyone had been waiting for him. And that everyone seemed equally relieved and furious about his return. He explained most of what happened, saving the details for Bull once they were alone and curled up in bedrolls.

“Your feet are cold as fuck,” Bull said. “He ought to have taken better care of you, kadan.”

“He looked after me. Solas always does.”

“Yeah, but it was half-assed job. Here.” Bull pulled Eilan further up along the bedroll until his feet were in easy reach. Then the Qunari put his large hands around each foot. He massaged them gently as he kissed Eilan’s lips. 

“Mm. If this is the whole-assed version, Bull, you ought to be glad that he didn’t.”

"The day I’m jealous of Solas is… Honestly, it might not be a day worth living through. He lets you follow him around like you're a confused little fennec fox. He likes how eager you are for his advice and approval, sure, but he doesn’t want anything else from you.”

Eilan smiled. “He’s a good friend.”

“He’s a sneaky old bastard too. Don't get me wrong though. It was good that you listened and good that he avenged his friend. I guess. Spirits and demons… It’s all too weird for me. And mages summoning up batshit insane things… Why do that when it would be so much better if everyone just stayed home?”

“I was wondering the same thing when I was gathering spindleweed.”

“In an ice-cold stream?”

Eilan ducked his head, feeling sheepish. “Um. That’s where I went when I left Solas. It was comforting only I kept thinking too much because I felt so strange and I guess… I did that ice thing I do when I get anxious. It usually doesn’t get the best of me but sometimes--”

“That part doesn’t concern me as much as the rest. No wonder he took off.”

“I’m sure he wasn’t thinking about you or your reaction.”

“I’ll fix that.”

“I’m fine, Bull.”

“Yeah, well, I’m going to have to make sure,” Bull said, letting go of Eilan’s feet. “It’s going to have to be a thorough investigation.”

“Oh, is it?”

“Yes. Very long. Very hard. Might have to tie you down to do it properly. You squirm around a lot.”

“I see. Well… We should get started then,” Eilan murmured before pulling Bull closer and into a kiss.

*

“This box and or miniature casket is ridiculous,” Dorian said, turning it over in his hands as they entered Ghilan’nain’s Grove. 

“You would know,” Bull cheerfully replied, immune to the glare he received. 

Dorian sighed. “Anyway, I think the stained glass panels on its sides are made of actual liquified gems.”

“Then be careful with it,” Eilan suggested. “We need it.”

“It’s really for a wyvern heart?” Blackwall asked for perhaps the third or fourth time.

“Vivenne needs it to complete a formula.”

“No wonder Cullen fusses over you. Anytime you’re out of his sight, you agree to the most bizarre tasks.”

“There’s no harm done and she’s done much for me.” 

Vivenne had helped train him and she was kind in her own way. Mostly she was demanding. Before the Western Approach and the Exalted Plains, The two of them had gone to Val Royeux for a very necessary quest to find the Inquisitor proper attire for Halamshiral. She had, in fact, insisted he visit her personal tailor and that she be allowed the bill. Eilan was a little terrified to see what Orlesian fashion pieces he’d ended up with. Everything he’d tried on had been white with feathers. 

At the very least, he had liked the idea of a cloak made of halla leather and lined with fennec fur. He’d been assured that adding a green eye made of some metallic veridium thread would only enhance it. She’d also insisted on purchasing him the most ornate, ridiculous gilded bed he’d ever seen. Perhaps it was all bribes to ensure he helped her with this task, but he doubted it. He’d done far more for people for far less.

“I’m not sure dressing you up and treating you like a child counts.”

“Not a child,” Dorian insisted. “More like… I don’t know. A street urchin or a foundling. She’s not a woman often motivated by kindness and I think that is what she feels sometimes when she is with Trevelyan. If it comes across as pity, just blame it on her coming from a much easier sort of life. The long I’m away from Tevinter, the more clear it becomes that we rich and snobbish types allow ourselves a certain, willful blindness to things we ought to find troublesome.”

Eilan shrugged as they continued to trudge through the marshlands. “I used to be concerned. Now I really believe she’s trying to be helpful. So if I can help her, I will.”

Bull snorted. “Why do humans have to make everything so complicated? Secretly we’re all thinking the same thing. That she’s going to eat this heart once we bring it to her.”

Dorian rolled his eyes as he sighed in exasperation. “No one was thinking that.”

“I was,” Sera said, finally joining them. She’d been off scouting ahead. Or possibly drawing pictures on the walls of whatever ruins they were passing by. It was all elven and she felt a certain way about all things “elfy.” “Vivienne would probably eat anyone’s heart given the chance. Only I bet the Inquisitor’s is too mushy for her.”

“He is pretty mushy,” Bull agreed.

Dorian, in the mean time, had folded his arms. He gave both of them a stern look one right after the other. “You two fools ought to mind your manners. You can’t go around thinking that. And you can’t accusing a First Enchanter of eating wyvern hearts. So either take it back, Bull, or I shall be forced to tell her you said so.”

Bull laughed. “Fine. We’re here because Viv acts like she’s the terrifyingly sexy evil Queen of Thedas. She’s taken a shining to Eilan, which is good for his health, but no one says no to her. I’d like to see Blackwall try when she’s clearing her throat and glaring daggers. So if she wants a heart, the boss gets her a heart. Help or go home. Simple as that.”

“Then there’s good news cos I think I found the snowy-what’s-it.”

Dorian huffed. “If you don’t know what it’s called, Sera, how do you know you’ve found it?”

Sera rolled her eyes. “If you must know, Magister Fancypants, I found it because it’s different than the rest of what we’ve killed. Process of elimination and all that. It’s directly ahead of us behind a big pile of rocks.”

She grabbed Eilan’s arm as the rest of them headed forward. “Hold up, you.” 

“Is something wrong?”

“Something is brilliant.” She glanced around then stood on her tiptoes so she could whisper into his ear. “I didn’t find a snowy wy-thingy. I found a dragon!” 

“A dragon?”

“Yes,” she said with a grin as she rocked back on her heels. “A big one. Purple and red and orange and yellow and a little white. Huge wings.”

“And you told us it was a wyvern because?”

“I thought it might be a fun surprise. Only I knew to tell you so you didn’t panic, and I should tell Blackwall. He hates surprises.”

Eilan reminded himself he was a serious leader of a serious task force charged with saving the world. But he couldn’t help returning Sera’s grin. He could just imagine Dorian and Bull’s reactions. 

All the same, he really wasn’t sure he ought to allow things to play out this way. He reminded himself that he needed to be a respectable authoritative figure like Cullen or Cassandra. Although he wasn’t sure Cassandra wouldn’t have agreed. She might not have grinned but she would have smirked. She would probably laugh once he told her back at camp. And Cullen probably would find it funny and want to agree. The only reason he’d disagree is it would piss Sera off to be thwarted yet again. 

“I don’t know, Sera...”

“It’ll be so fun! The way I figure it, you know now so you can throw up that blue bubble over them and they’ll be fine.”

“How about I wait until we’re nearly there?”

“Aw, come on, Inquisitor…”

“What are you two talking about?” Blackwall asked, moving back to join them.”It must be something good if her eyes are twinkling and you’re looking nervous.”

Sera beamed up at him. “There’s a dragon up ahead not a snowy weaver.”

“Wyvern.” 

“Whatever. There’s a dragon and I don’t want to tell Dorian,” Sera said.

Blackwall slowly grinned. 

“Oh, not you too,” Eilan insisted.

“No harm would come to him. He’ll be right as rain, you have my word. The look on his face would really do wonders for my morale.”

“Mine too!”

“Maintaining secrets and stealth is really not a skill that any of you possess. If you guys were any louder, he’d already know about the dragon,” Bull murmured, looming over them. 

“Where’s Dorian?” Eilan asked, slightly concerned.

Bull smirked, already well on his way to behaving like a small child on Wintersend. “Uh. If you listen closely you can hear him yelping. I left him with a few wyverns.” There was a very undignified screech followed by several reptilian ones. “Yeah. That’s him.”

Sera giggled happily. Blackwall coughed politely. It was possible he was laughing or smiling. Sometimes it was hard to tell with a beard in the way.

“So what’s the plan, kadan?”

“Plan? Bull, there is no plan and there are to be no surprises. We’re going to deal with the wyverns, and then we are going to tell Dorian about the dragon.”

“Aw, but... Why?”

“Because he doesn’t like looking foolish and because it’s mean-spirited.”

“But also hilarious,” Sera pointed out. “You thought so at first. You were grinning just as much as I was.”

“Yes, but I was also thinking of how happy Bull would be about the dragon. And he is. That’s good enough for me.”

“How about we vote on it?” Blackwall offered. “You can’t be blamed if the vote doesn’t go your way now can you?”

“We are not voting on it.” Eilan sighed heavily. “All three of you are utterly irresponsible and bad influences. And while it would be fun, it would be really wrong and--” There was a loud roar in the distance followed by a blood-curdling scream.

Eilan ran through swampy water towards the scream, all but colliding into Dorian. The Tevinter mage grabbed at Eilan’s tunic sleeve as he doubled-over. He set his free hand on his knee, working to catch his breath.

“Um. Hello again, Dorian.”

Dorian held up a hand, panting.

“Take your time,” Eilan said soothingly. Dorian’s hair was standing on end so Eilan gently smoothed it down. He looked up at the others and glared at them. All three of them were on the verge of obnoxious laughter. He was going to end up joining them if he wasn’t careful.

“There is,” Dorian began, “no wyvern, snowy or otherwise, lurking behind that giant pile of rocks. There is, in fact, a giant _fucking_ dragon.”

“He found it!” Sera exclaimed jubilantly.

Dorian righted himself, eyes flashing with irritation. “You were back here talking about the dragon?”

“I bet the look on your face was awesome,” Bull said just as Sera shouted “That’s you get for being such a smug bastard all the time” and Eilan insisted that “They wanted to trick you.”

“You three are arseholes. And you… You are very, very lucky that I’m so fond of you. Your indecisiveness is going to be the death of me.”

“On the bright side, the dragon didn’t follow you over here,” Blackwall pointed out.

“I’ll ‘bright side’ you into an early grave.”

“Meaning you’ll scream at me until my ears bleed? Seems to work on wyverns at least.”

All in all, it was probably for the best when the dragon’s lightning attack landed in the water around them. They all yelped loudly and looked for dry land.

Eilan ended up being the one to throw the occasional barrier over the others. Dorian seemed willing to only look after Eilan and himself although he did chuck a potion bottle at Blackwall’s head when the warrior seemed close to keeling over. 

Once their second dragon was down, and they’d located its horde, Eilan insisted Dorian take first pick. The other mage didn’t protest.

The snowy wyvern was actually and perhaps unsurprisingly with the other, regular wyverns. Killing the beast was very anticlimactic. Eilan left the actual heart removal process to Bull. Then they all walked briskly back to camp, ready to be done with the grove.

“You," Sera glared as she caught up with him. "You owe me pranks."

“I know I do.”

“It’s not fair that-- wot? Really?”

“I know I owe you some pranks. Maybe back at Skyhold?”

Sera blinked up at him. “I can’t believe that worked.”

“I’m capable of appreciating a good joke even if it’s at someone’s expense. If it hadn’t been a dragon, I’d have let you prank Dorian now.”

“Like if it had been Lord Woolsley?”

“Well, no, but… if it had been...something else.”

“Like a feral druffalo? Or a rabid bereskarn? Or a cannibalistic halla?”

“Something else, Sera.”

“Right,” Sera said rolling her eyes. “Something else like a dazzling rainbow. Or a daisy that’s so lovely in its simplicity or some shite that it makes him cry. Or a bunch of grapes blessed by Andraste herself. Or a very nice down pillow that takes up an entire sunlit meadow.” 

“I’m sure why the choices are a deranged beast or sappy nonsense but… You could put an evil-looking face on the pillow and claim the land was cursed.”

Sera laughed. “You are completely daft. Alright. What if I wanted to prank Bull?”

“Go ahead.”

“Blackwall?”

“That’s fine.”

“Cassandra.”

“Yes, but leave her books alone.”

“Cole?”

Eilan sighed as it occurred to him that she was going to name all of their companions one by one. “No. For Cullen, it depends. Josephine… Only if it’s a nice one. Leliana, same thing. Varric and Solas, yes, but I suspect the payback would be brutal. Vivienne, no. Dorian, it would--”

“It’s a no, and you know it. You’re so weird about him.”

“Weird?”

“Protective. Like Maker forbid something should go wrong for him.”

“I just… There shouldn’t people that pranks wouldn’t be good for, that’s all.”

“You’d handle it poorly. You’d take it the wrong way.”

“Yes, and I think Dorian would too. Especially if it involved a dragon.”

Sera considered this before smirking. “Still, I still got him good today. Technically speaking, that is.”

“There is that.”

*

While there was little that could be done for the templars, Eilan had been only too willing to try to learn more of what had become of the Seekers. The trail led to Caer Oswin. In the dungeon, they found evidence of The Order of Fiery Promise. Yet another cult, the Promisers had been after the Seekers for quite sometime. The Keep itself was in disarray and the bodies of Seekers were scattered around its hallways. 

More evidence of foul play was discovered along with the reasons behind it. And plenty of Promiser soldiers to defeat once they entered the courtyard.

“As the Seekers of Truth have proven resistant to the effects of red lyrium, the Elder One has seen fit to place them in your care,” Cassandra read from a note they’d looted off of a fallen foe. “Reclaim your destiny, and know that the Elder One expects your devotion as repayment. It is signed by Magister Calpurnia, leader of the Venatori.”

They proceeded further along, Cassandra refusing not to learn the truth and Eilan reluctantly following her along with Varric, Vivenne, Bull, Cole, and Dorian. The carnage and the sense of worse yet to come kept them all quiet. He hoped for survivors just as she did, but he hardly expected for them to find any.

Back in the Keep, at the foot of a long stone staircase, they found a Seeker. Behind him was a dead horned beast and a large skull. He was alive but he was quickly fading away. His pale face was a network of red-black fissures. 

Cassandra recognized the young man as Daniel and knelt beside him. Eilan crouched beside her. 

“They put a demon inside me,” Daniel explained. “It’s tearing me apart.” And they’d fed him things that were growing inside of him.

There seemed to be nothing they could do for him save avenge him by tracking down the Lord Seeker. 

“Lucius betrayed us, Cassandra. He sent us here one by one. ‘An important mission,’ he said.”

So many leaders and each one more corrupt than the last. How could anyone stand it? How can any of his companions continue to follow Eilan given what they were seeing time and time again? Everywhere they went someone was dead or dying. Losing their life, their sanity, their morals or all three by letting their actions be guided by that of another. If you gave someone your trust, you gave them so much power over you. 

“Lies. He was here all along. He was working with them. The demon came later.”

Daniel explained that an Envy Demon had assumed Lord Lucius’ form and gone to Therinfal Redoubt. It must have been furious when they hadn’t walked into its trap. Maybe that was another reason why they could no longer receive word of any kind from any templar.

“The Lord Seeker allowed it. He let the demon take command, while he… came here. Or perhaps the demon is here. Perhaps they both are here. There is little difference between them.”

And there it went. The last of their hope of finding other Seekers to aid them. “Cassandra…”

“Now is not the time for sympathy.” 

“Wait!” Daniel said as they got to their feet. “Don’t leave me like this. Please.”

“You should have come with,” Cassandra said quietly. “You didn’t believe in the war anymore than I did.”

“You know me. I wanted that promotion.”

“Go to the Maker’s side, Daniel. You will be welcome.” Cassandra drew her sword, dark determination spreading over her features.

Eilan flinched but he watched the poor man in front of him as she dealt the killing blow. This was why he had to help the Grey Wardens. He had to help all of those whose abilities were being used against them. To help anyone he could. He would not turn them away or allow desperation to guide his actions. Someone had to be a leader worth having. He hoped to be such a leader, but he hoped he wouldn’t have to be the only one.

“He was my apprentice,” Cassandra said. “It is a great shame to lose such a fine young man. Now we find Lord Seeker Lucius.”

On and on they went, back outside and through parts of the castle more significantly damaged. Lush greenery grew out from between the stones. Around it all were large trees. They followed a path up to another stone staircase and through a door.

There they found the Lord Seeker and red lyrium templars. 

After introductions, Lucius said: "I presume you know we Seekers of Truth were once the original Inquisition. Oh yes. We fought to restore order in a time of madness long ago, as you do now."

"We are nothing alike."

Lucius smirked. "And we became proud. We sought to remake the world-- to make it better. But what did we create? The Chantry, the Circle of Magi. A war that will see no end."

"And aiding Corypheus... That's your solution?"

"Corypheus is a monster with limited ambition."

"And your ambition is so much greater," Cassandra observed.

"We Seekers are abominations, Cassandra. We created a decaying world, and fought to preserve it even as it crumbled. We had to be stopped. You don't believe me? See for yourself." He held out a book with a silver eye on the cover. "The secrets of our Order, passed to me after the former Lord Seeker was slain. The war with the mages had already begun, but it was not too late for me to do the right thing."

"How was this the right thing?" Eilan asked.

Cassandra said, "Lord Seeker, what you've done..."

"I know. What Corypheus did with the templars does not matter. I have seen the future. I have created a new Order to replace the old. The world will end so we can start anew-- a pure beginning."

"A purge."

"How else are we to start over, Inquisitor? You of all people understand the need for change. The world as we built it let you down, destroyed you. Will you prevent it from crashing down when we are so close to something better? Join us, Eilan. Join us, Cassandra. It is the Maker’s will."

What wasn’t? And yet, almost against his will, Eilan found himself understanding some of what the man had said and agreeing in part. This didn’t mean he approved of his actions, but the Chantry and all that went with it… It was a little use now and hadn’t been in quite some time. 

But what good was change or a bright future if it was baptized in so much blood? If it began with corruption and brutal, inhumane slaughter, would it not return there in the end? The road to change mattered. It had to matter and serve as an inspiration to those who would later regard it all as their legacy, their history. 

Eilan wanted to be a part of the world that came after if it were possible. But he suspected Lucius did not, that he was, if nothing else, accepting that he along with the other Seekers had no place in it. Only a Maker-mandated obligation to destroy themselves to ensure the possibility of a new beginning.

Cassandra brandished her sword, snarling. The others followed suit, attacking the templars and the Lord Seeker.

As Eilan moved to join them, long and clawed hands clamped down on his temples. Another set covered his mouth. The hands were blood-red and whatever was behind him was hauling him up off the ground. And it was a considerable distance. Elongated arms tightened around Eilan's waist, hands clutching and all but ripping at skin. 

Eilan struggled, trying to get away or to get a good look at… Well, it was certainly a demon. It had no face and no mouth, just a pale bulbous thing with red veins running through it. And it was hissing. 

Then it was screaming, a dagger through the right shoulder. Another went through its left shoulder blade immediately after that. The demon threw Eilan at the ground, scuttling backwards, clawed limbs helping it move up the stone wall behind them. It hissed again. 

“He doesn’t like people in his head,” Cole said, moving between them. “Dark and desperate, death to make yourself alive. I used to be like you. I'm not anymore. You shouldn't be either.”

Eilan scrambled to his feet, placing a barrier over the spirit. 

The demon leapt back, landing with its long limbs splayed out like a spider. It raised its not-head, screeching loudly. 

Eilan froze it in place, but seconds later the monster was clawing at the air, at them. 

The demon began screaming as Bull took a swing at it with his maul, flinging it back at the wall. The Qunari brought his maul back down again, bashing it into the demon's pronounced ribs. “You heard the kid. Hands off.”

While the three of them worked to wear the demon down and kill it, the others were handling the templars and the Lord Seeker. Or, rather, just the Lord Seeker. Cassandra had made short work of the soldiers accompanying him. 

When the Lord Seeker finally crumpled to the ground, the demon was still going strong. The others joined in and Eilan used the opportunity to take both a lyrium and a health potion. Eventually, the envy demon faded away into inky black nothing, howling and screeching all the while. 

“It was promised a reward,” Cole said quietly. “For so long it was denied.”

“A reward?”

“You. To touch you. To have you. Your form. Your mind. Everything else. The Lord Seeker was not enough. The deaths were not enough. Inside it was no one still. It wanted more. It knew you would come here.”

“Yeah, well, how’d that work out, you stupid son of a bitch?” Bull growled, spitting at where the monster had been. “It didn’t? That's right. Because you were the ugliest piece of shit around. And now you’re just another black smear on the cobblestones so fuck you.”

Eilan patted Bull’s arm, smiling at Cole. “It’s a good thing I have you around, Cole.”

Cole pulled the brim of his hat down. “I helped?”

“You most certainly did. Let’s see if we can find your daggers. Or some new ones. I’m sure there’s something to be found around here. There usually is after a fight like this.”

Bull was still scowling down at the black mark the demon had left behind once they'd found Cole's daggers. “Fucking demons. How can it always be demons?” 

“Will the Iron Bull be all right?”

Eilan smiled reassuringly. “Oh, he’ll be fine once we find him some actual people to punch into oblivion. Come along now, Bull. The demon’s long gone and you’re upsetting Cole.” 

"In a minute."

Eilan waited then sighed when the Qunari didn't budge. “You big, stubborn... “ His eyes lit upon a small cache of weapons along the wall. He inspected them and decided to try a different approach. “Oh look, dear. There’s a really nice mace over here that you might like.”

“Fine,” Bull muttered, heading towards them. 

“He hates demons,” Cole said quietly.

“I think he must.”

“I’m a demon.”

“No, you are not,” Bull said, joining them. He pushed Cole’s hat up and then kissed Eilan’s hair. “You may be a squirrelly kid, Cole, but you’re our squirrelly kid. And you’re handy to have around.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem. Hey, this is nice.” Bull said, nudging both of them out of his way. He hefted the mace. He examined the head, which was a seven-pointed star with a spike in the middle. 

“I told you it was.”

“Mm hm. Vidathiss used one just like this.” 

“Vidathiss?”

“A re-educator. She would crush the skulls of--” Bull paused seeming to consider his current audience of two. “Uh, she was very nice and respectable bad-ass. She was a good friend to the knights in the Free Marches and nothing bad ever happened ever.”

Eilan rolled his eyes. “You can think about Vidathiss crushing people’s skulls.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. I’m sure it’ll cheer you up.”

Bull grinned. “Yeah, it does. You should give this to Cassandra. She’ll make good use of it. She’s a nice and respectable bad-ass too.”

Eilan glanced around until he located her. “She is but… Perhaps later.”

Once they joined Cassandra and the others, her attention was split between the Lord Seeker’s corpse and then the book he’d given her. “He was insane. He must have been.”

“Nothing that happened here indicates much in terms of rationality,” Varric agreed. 

“All right, my dear?” Vivienne asked, eying Eilan sharply. She made no real effort to check on either Bull or Cole’s well-being. 

“Just fine. I’ll try to make more of an effort to watch my back.”

“You had better,” Dorian put in from where he was crouched over the body of a red templar. Dorian had a nearly endless litany of complaints when it came to adventuring, but he was fond of looting.

“Perhaps it was the envy demon’s influence,” Cassandra said, more to herself than to anyone else. “The influence of Corypheus perhaps?”

“I think trying to understand him will only do us both more harm than good,” Eilan quietly replied.

“I think you may be right,” she admitted. “Still. He could not have destroyed all of us. I won’t accept it. Let us return to Skyhold. I wish to see what’s in this book.” 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inner Circle Quest Time! And some notes.
> 
> \- In terms of Solas' personal quest, it made more sense to me for that to be up to him and not up to Eilan. Not to go into spoilers, but I don't see it as anything that actually tips Solas' hand. I think any mage can get angry enough to kill a bunch of people and it's usually safer for a friend, even a powerful one, to move a safe distance away. 
> 
> \- As far as Solas calling Eilan 'da'len' goes, it just sort of made sense. I don't know if it will to everyone reading this? Here's hoping. I don't see using that word as changing anything of any significance. And I think Bull's description of their dynamic is fairly accurate.
> 
> \- I don't know if anyone else went looking for the snowy wyvern and found that dragon long before they found the wyvern, but I sure did. 
> 
> \- I had to add the envy demon in somewhere. I didn't want it to simply be a mention and it made sense for it to be at Caer Oswin. I also really wanted Cole involved for obvious reasons. 
> 
> \- Next update should be on Monday.


	23. Chapter 23

*

Back at Skyhold, Eilan raced up to the battlements. He stopped in Cullen’s office, kissing the man in front of a scout, and then dashing off to find Commander Helaine. It took the better part of the day, but by the end of it he could summon up a sword.

As evening drew near, he decided it was best to bring Vivienne her wyvern heart before seeing what Cassandra had learned. Solas had yet to return, but Eilan saw no reason to doubt that the mage would return when he was ready.

“You ought to consider amplifying your spirit blade with your anchor,” Vivienne told him when he mentioned his progress. He couldn’t show her what he’d learned because he’d promised to do so for Cullen first. She’d given him a look, but she’d let the matter drop.

“Do you think I could?”

“I think you would be foolish not to, my dear. The mark you bear is still the key to defeating Corypheus. As you saw with Erimond, it can be used against you but it can be used for you.”

“Right.”

He sighed heavily as she made him try on several of the outfits that had arrived from Orlais. Each one made him feel absurdly like an albino peacock. Still, he did like the simple tunic and trousers that could help him continue to avoid unattractive, beige attire. Then he presented her with the box.

“One heart as requested.”

“Inquisitor, you are a treasure,” she told him, drumming her nails along the box lid before sitting it down on a desk in her room. Then she picked up a coin purse. “Please accept this as pay--”

Eilan shook his head. “No payment. It wasn’t any trouble at all.” Which wasn’t a lie. The actually finding and killing of a snow wyvern had been very simple.

“Then I shall begin work immediately.” She set the coin purse down as she eyed him. Turning back around, she set her hands on his shoulders and studied him intently. “I should apologize. I have often and completely misjudged you. When the formula is complete, I would like for you to come with me to see this through.”

“I’m be glad to.”

She nodded, moving away from him. “Good. Off with you.”

Leaving Vivienne, Eilan figured he ought to give Cullen one more very quick kiss before he sought out Cassandra.

“Oh no you don’t,” Cullen said capturing Eilan before he could dash off again. “Honestly you would think the whole of Skyhold was on fire and everyone had been rendered unconscious by the smoke and it was up to you to save every living soul.”

“There’s just a great deal to do.”

“Sit,” Cullen growled out, but his tone hinted at playfulness. And even if it hadn’t… Well, if Cullen wanted to growl at him that way and often, Eilan would not have objected.

He smiled and sat down on a couch he hadn’t recalled being there before.

Cullen joined him. “I had to hear about the envy demon from Bull and then Cassandra.”

“I told you as much in the letter I sent.”

“Well, it hasn’t arrived, and I would have very much liked to hear about it from you.”

“Not much happened to me. The envy demon was impersonating Lord Seeker Lucius and deceiving the templars, guiding them to using red lyrium. The real one was destroying the Seekers. And I suppose when I didn’t go to Therinfal Redoubt, it waited for me to go elsewhere. Cole suggested that it was trying to pry into my mind or switch from Lucius to me… Anyway, we killed it.”

“Maker’s Breath. If you’d listened to me back in Haven--”

Eilan took Cullen’s hand in his. “I would still be here with you in one piece. I’m not saying it would have been a pleasant experience if the demon had actually got into my head or tried to become me but I would have still managed. The others would have still been with me.”

“And this is you we’re talking about. Very well.”

“There is some good news.”

“Yes?”

“Oh yes.”

First, Eilan told him of the second dragon, pleased by how much the entire retelling made Cullen laugh. Then he concentrated on forming a spirit blade. He didn’t want to use his anchor just yet so the construct was simple and blue. He waved a hand, breaking it down into smaller and smaller blades until the magic disappeared from view.

“I’m fairly pleased with the end result. I’ll need to practice it but...”

Cullen kissed him. “It’s very impressive. Thank you for showing me first.”

“Of course.”

“I’m really hoping I get to see you use that on someone, you know. Someone deserving, I mean. Obviously I’d prefer you didn’t use anyone here as an impromptu, magical pin cushion.”

Eilan grinned. “Understood, Commander. I’m sure you will.”

*

Eventually, Eilan found Cassandra sitting alone at a table with a book in front of her. She was sighing.

He sat down across from her, waiting for her to speak first.

"This tome has passed from Lord Seeker to Lord Seeker, since the time of the old Inquisition. And now it falls to me..."

"Are you all right? You look drained?"

She glanced up at him.

“Is it that bad?”

"I have learned something... troubling."

"Yes?"

"What began the mage rebellion was the discovery that the Rite of Tranquility could be reversed."

"...reversed?"

Cassandra nodded stiffly. "The Lord Seeker at the time covered it up-- Harshly, there were deaths. It was dangerous knowledge. Of course it was. He believed that the shock of its discovery in addition to what happened in Kirkwall--”

“Keeping it a secret didn’t help.”

"No, but it is far worse than that. It appears my Order has always known how to reverse the Rite. From the very beginning."

Eilan closed his eyes briefly then opened them again. “No.”

“Inquisitor--”

“No,” he said again rising to his feet, “That is not--”

“Stay. Please.” Cassandra touched his hand. She flinched for his fingers were like ice, but she wrapping hers around them anyway. "Please let me tell you what I have learned.”

He stood there for a moment, unwilling to move. Then he willed himself calm and returned to his seat. Cassandra was not Mother Giselle. She was not trying just to mean well. She was trying to tell Eilan the truth and it seemed likely she’d learned it all very recently. From the damned book on the table. Already he wanted to set it on fire.

“We created the Rite of Tranquility. I told you of my vigil-- The months I spent emptying myself of all emotion? I was made Tranquil, and did not even know.”

Eilan’s eyes widened. “They made you...”

“Yes. Then the vigil summoned a spirit of faith to touch my mind. That broke my Tranquility, and gave me my abilities. The Seekers did not share that secret. Not with me. Not with the Chantry. Not even with--"

“Not even with the mages?”

“Not even the mages, but I meant the Most Holy.”

Eilan looked away.

“I am sorry.”

“Are you?” he asked quietly. “What are you sorry for? That I found out? That no spirit of faith or anything else thought to ever visit me?”

“If anyone was ever visited by a spirit of faith, it was you.”

Eilan shook his head. “I’m not sure I will ever have the sort of faith everyone wants me to have.”

“There is no one who believes more in the people of Thedas. If that is not faith then what is?” she asked.

Eilan had no idea so he said nothing.

“Eilan, I am sorry for the person I allowed myself to become. For the way I would have seen a mage like you in the past. The man you are, the one I have come to see as my friend, would not exist if it were up to my Order. If it was left to the templars or the Chantry. And yet it is only because of you that any of us are able to do anything at all to save this world.”

“Small thanks to--”

“No thanks to the Chantry, I know,” Cassandra said gently. “I used to think the Rite of Tranquility was a necessary evil. Yes, the occasional mage was given the brand when he did not deserve it, but it was for a greater good. Then I look at you, and I realize how little I understand about goodness, kindness, or forgiveness.”

Eilan tried to pull his hand away but the warrior’s grip remained firm. “I’m hardly Andraste come again, Cassandra.”

“You are close. That is, I believe that if she were to come again, it would be as a person like you. You are a good man. It is not in spite of your being a mage, I know that now. Everything you are makes you a good man. After what we heard at Caer Oswin, what we’ve seen others do in the name of a new world… No good can ever come from the evil we are willing to tolerate. Nor should it be committed by those who claim to serve the Maker and his children.”

“I would agree with that.”

“Then tell me… I thought to rebuild the Seekers once victory was ours. Now I'm not so certain it deserves to be rebuilt. Now, Eilan, I do not believe the Seekers have been doing the Maker’s work. Not truly. We harbored secrets and let them fester. We acted to survive, but not to serve.”

“I am not sure anyone knows what the Maker’s work is well enough to do it,” Eilan pointed out. In fact, he was beginning to suspect no one involved in the Chantry actually knew what the Maker’s work was. Some of them didn’t even want to. “The Seekers are responsible for the rebellion in more ways than one. All along, the Rite of Tranquility has been a tool used for whatever purpose the Chantry requires. All along, my people were left to suffer. I was...”

“I know.”

Eilan simply nodded, looking down at the table between them.

“I am not sure anyone is meant to do the Maker’s work save the Maker himself,” Cassandra said in a low tone as though they were in a Chantry and the Sisters might here. “You are right. There are so many atrocities we have allowed and perpetrated. That is why I am not sure what I must do in terms of the Seekers.”

“Cassandra…” Eilan took a deep breath then met her gaze. “I am not sure I can tell you what to do. I am not sure you would like what I have to say.”

“If anyone can help me make this choice, it is you. I have lost my way,” Cassandra said, blinking hard one time. “I have lost it entirely, Eilan. Every time I think I have found a path, it leads me back into a maze of thorns. I thought when we found you that you were weak; we all did. But we were the weak ones. I am weak. I am not as strong as you.”

“You’re far stronger than me.”

“Only in ways that do not matter,” Cassandra dismissively. “I know you have doubts, but you are the Herald of Andraste. The way your life echoes Hers cannot be mere coincidence. You are also the Inquisitor. You are, above all things, my friend. I want to be yours. I want to be the sort of person you are. Tell me how. Please.”

"Then… Were it up to me, the Seekers would be gone, Cassandra. If you are asking me what I think you should do, I think you have to let them go."

It had been difficult to keep looking at her and then, suddenly, just like that it was easy. Cassandra didn't seem angry. She seemed... pleased. More than that. She seemed uplifted, like something terrible had been taken from her. Was it the burden of being the last of a failed Order? Or was it just that he’d freed her from a task she no longer wanted but felt obligated to perform as she was all that was left of the Seekers? 

"Thank you," she said, squeezing his hand. “That is what I wish to do, but it is not something I could decide on my own."

“You’re not alone. We’re in this together. I am not… I’m not sure I wanted to know the truths in your book, but it is a relief to know you feel the same. I do not think I could stand to see your Order rebuilt.”

“Nor could I. Not when Lucius was right.”

“Right and yet horribly wrong. Or perhaps simply misguided and, like you, unable to find his way on his own. I thought about this as he spoke and I’ve thought about it on the way home to Skyhold.”

“What did you determine?”

“We can’t go back. We can’t go back to a world that so many people would gladly see burn if only to save us from it. The desperation that is driving everyone mad… It’s not just Corypheus. He’s exploiting problems that already exist and manipulating all of the decent people who would solve them. We have to strive for something new. This world has to change. We all have to change. Only we cannot sow seeds of despair and hate and misery and expect joy and hope and love to grow. We have to be that which we seek, Cassandra. We have to be the change we want to see take place in this world.”

He blinked a bit as she hauled him over the table and into a hug. It was incredibly uncomfortable until she pulled him across, which was mildly embarrassing. All the same, he allowed it.

“Um. Thank you? But… Cassandra, I know you wouldn’t really, but please don’t worship me now or anything? That would be horrible. And weird.”

She laughed and let him go. “Of course not. I would hate for things to be weird between us.” It was meant as a statement but there was a hint of question. A small trace of concern.

Eilan sat back on the edge of the table and smiled up at her. “They’re not weird. We’re good. Really good.”

“We are,” she said, smiling back hopefully. “We really are.”

*

He was more than satisfied with the end result of his discussion with Cassandra, but what he’d learned… What the Seekers had done… Obviously it all still bothered him. He visited the stables, let various mounts serve as a comforting distraction, before sitting with Blackwall.

“You’re putting so much work into this,” Eilan said, watching Blackwall carve.

He’d managed to be a silent observer for nearly half an hour but he felt that he needed to acknowledge how much the other man was doing. The staff was still coming along remarkably. The level of detail, not to mention the stone eyes of the intricately carved animals, made him feel a little guilty. He really needed to get Blackwall something. Not payment and not just artifacts. Something else.

“It’s for a very important person.”

“I’m gathering the impression that a lot of people regard me in that way. It’s… I’m still not used to it. I’m not sure I deserve it.”

“You do but there’s no sense letting it go to your head. With this motley crew, it’s best to keep humble.”

“It is a motley one.”

“I’ve never seen the like but it works well enough. Thanks to you.”

“You’re sure you’re doing all right?”

Blackwall looked up from his carving.

“I know you wouldn’t lie about it, but I’m sure you’re downplaying the effects significantly. You don’t need to, you know. If it gets to be too much...”

“I can manage,” Blackwall gruffly replied. “I’m going to have to if I’m to be of any use at Adamant.”

“Yes, but--”

The Warden sighed. “It’s bad, Inquisitor. Of course it is, but I suppose it must be worse on the mages. Or was worse for them, the poor bastards. I’ll have time to recover from the entire experience once you’re done being a hero again.”

“I'm not sure when that will be. We're heroes quite a bit of the time.”

Blackwall shrugged. “If we are, it’s still because of you. That’s the real issue here. Leaders failing their people left and right. I’ll never understand how a person could think Corypheus was a proper choice though.”

“I suppose it’s the same way certain people will make bargains with demons. You can’t understand it unless you’re the type of person who would do it. It’s unkind perhaps, but I’m glad that I haven’t been tested as much as others have.”

Blackwall’s brow furrowed. “You have been tested as much as you need to be, Herald.”

Eilan smiled.

“Now go, will you? Enjoy some down time for a change.”

“All right but I’ll come back.”

“You always do.”

He left Blackwall behind, stopping at a few stalls before spotting Solas entering through the gate.

Running would have been undignified, but a brisk trot seemed perfectly respectable. “You returned!”

“I recall saying as much.”

Eilan smiled sheepishly, unwilling to disguise his happiness as seeing his friend again. “I know. Sorry. How are you, Solas?”

“It hurts. It always does, but I will survive.”

“You had better,” Eilan insisted. “And I know it's obvious but... I’m very glad you’re back.”

“You did everything you could to help my friend. I consider you one as well. I would hardly abandon you now.”

“Where did you go?”

Solas indicated the stone stairs leading up to the Keep. They started walking, heading for the room Solas had made his. Or, at least, seemed to prefer remaining in with books and lately with paint. He’d begun work on some sort of mural before they’d left for Orlais.

“I found a quiet spot and went to sleep. I visited the place in the Fade where my friend used to be.” Solas shook his head. “It’s empty, but there are stirrings of energy in the void. Someday something new may grow there.”

“Is that what happens when a spirit...dies?”

“It isn’t the same as for mortals. The energy of spirits returns to the Fade. If the idea giving the spirit form is strong, or if the memory has shaped other spirits, it may someday rise again.”

That was almost a comforting thought, only Solas did not sound entirely comforted by it. “And your friend...”

“Something similar may form one day, but it might have a different personality. It would likely not remember me. It would not be the friend I knew.”

Eilan eyed the other mage sadly. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m aware of that, yes,” Solas said with a small smile.

“Next time you need not mourn alone.”

“Perhaps you are right. It has not been easy for me to trust others. I will work on it.”

“Thank you,” Eilan said. He wasn’t about to push and he certainly wasn’t going to force Solas to grieve in a way that suited anyone else. “There is something I would like to ask you about. Tell you about. Something important.”

“I left for too long and much has happened,” Solas surmised. “Tell me then. Ask me. Share whatever it is. I will listen.”

Eilan waited until they were in Solas’ room. He pulled a chair up to the other mage’s desk and told him of Caer Oswin. Of the Envy Demon, the Book of Secrets, the Rite of Tranquility, and helping Cassandra to leave the Seekers behind her as well as the rest of them.

Solas steepled his fingers in front of him, letting his eyes close for a moment. “What of the Chantry?” he asked when he opened them again.

“What of it?”

“The templars are unlikely to return to their former glory. The Seekers are over. The Promisers are too. The Chantry remains. What will you do with it?”

“I’m not sure. I am trying to hard to respect the faith of those around me. I am not sure what I would do if I was willing to be less receptive. I think Cassandra is right that the Maker’s work is not something we can hope to truly know. It might not be something any of us can do, but I am sure some are trying hard to go right by Him than others.”

“Odd then that the one trying the hardest to see His work done still does not know if he even believes in Him.”

“Solas…”

“Do you think I find fault in that?” Solas asked. “In you? Struggle with the Maker if you wish. Find the faith you need in others instead, if it helps. The choice you make is of little consequence. You will do good works regardless for that is the sort of man you are. That is all that matters and, if one actually looks to the Chant of Light, that seems to be what the Maker wants.”

“I suppose…”

“The Chantry has no desire to retreat gracefully or fade away like its many failing Orders. Its remaining leaders will ask you to help them. To endorse or even select the next Divine.”

Eilan scowled.

Solas laughed. “The Inquisition is part of the Chantry whether you would like it that way or not. Would you prefer the Chantry to work actively against you like so much of the Imperium?”

“No, but there is so much that they have done that I can never… I don’t know if I can support the Chantry as whole no matter how I might feel about the individuals who make up its rapidly decaying organizational structure.”

“I know, and you will have to help shape it into something that works for people of Thedas rather than against them. You would be wise to choose someone who either has ideals that facilitate change and reform. Someone who is receptive to your council and supportive of your current efforts. The Chantry is too important to be removed so it must become a part of the world you hope to build. Provided you offer your influence and, when necessary, wield your power.”

“I will have to,” Eilan admitted with a sigh. “The Chantry provides charity, hope, and opportunity for other people, I know that. I must think of them just as I must tend to all of the people who the Chantry has failed. I will not allow the return of the methods and secrets that brought about so much corruption and death. The Circles must remain broken although I think we could work on creating Colleges or Universities. Education and training is important, but I will not allow things to return to anything remotely like the way they were.”

“Then that is what shall come to pass.”

“After a good deal of hard work and diplomacy.”

“Naturally, but do not forget. In many ways, you are a very important person. Not just to Ferelden. Not just to Orlais. To all of Thedas. Already people look to you and to this Inquisition before they look elsewhere.”

“Considering the other places they could look, should I really be flattered?”

Solas smiled. “I’m sure there’s a compliment to be found if we look hard enough. Make the Chantry work for the Inquisition and for the people. Let these unfortunate revelations and the desire to never repeat the sins of the past fuel your resolve. That is a useful purpose which they can serve.”

“And perhaps there is another.”

Solas waited for more.

“I have also… That is, I would like to consider seeing if we could reverse the Rite for others. I am not sure if it is one any of the Tranquil would wish to pursue and yet...”

“Perhaps if you appeal to them with an argument based on logic. It will be important to be honest, of course. It is just that telling them of the return of their true self or their emotions will not be of interest.”

Eilan nodded. “Right. In some cases that would be a significant motivation to refuse. But… The return of their abilities would aid the Inquisition and allow them a richer sense of purpose. I don’t know if that would be enough. I don’t know if I would have ever agreed to a reversal if I was still Tranquil. Still, I should like to offer it as a possibility. Nothing more. I cannot ask it of those who are not willing. Right now the idea of forcibly removing the Rite from them is too grey an area for my liking.”

“Agreed. Let us see what we can come up with, and then consult with the Tranquil who are here at Skyhold. Dorian might be helpful, but I am not sure I would mention this to Vivienne.”

“It would not be helpful,” Eilan reluctantly agreed. “I also… I should like to locate Anders.”

“I have heard the Prince of Starkhaven has asked for your help in that matter.”

“Josephine has already turned him down for me. That is not how I wish for this matter to be handled.”

“Aiding or speaking with Anders will not go over well with the men and women you have gathered here. Many will not approve or appreciate even a small or vague gesture of goodwill.”

“No and yet… Here are my reasons.”

Solas settled back in his chair with a smile. “All right.”

“None of this was possible without him. What I am, I know I owe to whatever happened at the Conclave, but that only happened because of what he did in Kirkwall. More importantly, he is not only a mage but a Grey Warden and he has a powerful spirit residing within him. If he has not joined Corypheus and managed to resist this false Calling, we ought to ensure that this remains the case. I can't do that if I don't know where he is.”

“Locating him is a possibility. It will take time but I would be willing to do so.”

“You would?”

Solas inclined his head. “Of course. Anders is host to what was or still is a spirit of justice. I have contacts which the Inquisition does not, and you can trust me to keep the matter confidential.”

“If you’re willing, I would appreciate it.”

Solas nodded, eying Eilan thoughtfully. “Was this what you were like before the Rite? Before the anchor? Your mind, your morals, your spirit… Were those always the same?”

Eilan looked down at the mark on his hand. “I don’t… It’s hard for me to say. I suppose so? I feel like who I am keeps… Not changing but…”

“Evolving. Growing.”

“Yes. I know this is who I always wanted to be, but I’m not certain I ever had the chance. Why do you ask?”

“You are so new to so much of this world. I remember when we found you. I had no idea what to think of you then.”

“And now?”

“You show a wisdom I haven’t seen since… Since my deepest journeys into the ancient memories of the Fade.”

“In what way?”

“Your actions, your willingness to learn, your eagerness to discern the truth, your ability to connect to others… You do not match up to any of my expectations. You continually exceed them. You continue to surprise me.”

“And that’s good, right?”

Solas smiled pensively. “Yes. It’s very refreshing.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Resolutions to several Inner Circle quests. The conversation with Solas makes me nervous because writing Solas always makes me nervous so hopefully it reads well.
> 
> Thank you to Tigercule for beta-ing this chapter and for being willing to look over future installments. It's so helpful. Any remaining mistakes and such are my own, obviously.
> 
> The next update should be Wednesday.


	24. Chapter 24

*

Cullen was waiting for him outside of his quarters. He followed Eilan inside and there was a package tucked under his arm. “I spoke to Bull. I thought to speak to you first, but I figured that would make matters awkward. I hope I did the right thing mentioning it to him first but… I thought maybe we could spend the night together.”

“Tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Starting right now?”

“Yes. I thought we could have supper together in your rooms.”

“We could. Are you done courting me already?” Eilan teased.

“Hardly only… Well, I’m only human and we spend so much time apart. It is far more frustrating than I had previously anticipated.”

Eilan laughed as he headed for the couch. “Oh, Cullen. I’m sorry. And I’m glad we’re going to the night together. I’d like to hold you in my arms while you sleep. Or vice versa. Is that… Is that weird to say?”

“I think it’s rather perfect.” Cullen leaned over Eilan, kissing his lips before joining him. “I should like to try out both. I do have something for you. From my sister.”

“It’s not a long letter threatening me if I make you sad, is it?”

Cullen laughed. “No. She did send me one suggesting that I ‘refrain from being a stubborn ass.’ But I think she meant in a general sense.”

“What did she send me?”

“I don’t open the Inquisitor’s mail. I merely take it to be inspected and verified.”

“It’s from your sister.”

“One can never be too careful.”

Eilan sighed, letting the matter go as he accepted the parcel from Cullen. He was never going to get any of his advisers to agree to less restrictions. He suspected this would be the case even if there hadn’t been amateur assassins. Inside the package, there was a short note thanking him for putting up with her brother. A pair of grey wool socks. And a pair of blue mittens that became fingerless gloves.

“She made these for me?”

“She’s too angry to make me anything.”

“I’ll have to write her and thank her.”

“That would be very kind of you.”

“Well, I have to let her know you’re being looked after.”

Cullen rolled his eyes, snatching up the note. “I see. How very like Mia.”

“These mittens will come in hand-- They’ll be useful next time I’m in Emprise du Lion.”

“Was that you resisting a pun?”

“I really wasn’t trying to make one.” Eilan unlaced his boots, tossing them to the side of the couch. He switched out his threadbare socks for the new ones, sighing contentedly. “These are lovely.”

“What did Cassandra end up speaking to you about?”

Eilan turned, letting his feet rest in Cullen’s lap. He didn’t really want to go into it, but he was going to have to. With Cullen and with Bull. So he shared what Cassandra had learned and his decision on what to do about the Seekers.

During the course of the story, Cullen had lost his armored gloves and had begun working on Eilan’s feet. His expression was hard to read. By the end of the explanation, he seemed a bit sad. “She’s been very supportive of me and all this time… I never thought to ask her about what she was planning or what she wanted to do. I always assumed she’d leap at the chance to reform or rebuild the Seekers.”

“She might have once. Do you think… That is, I feel I made the right decision but...”

“I’m sure you did. Considering what we know now… I am not sure you can go back to something once you’ve learned unpleasant truths about that thing or about yourself when you are a part of it. If the templar order could only exist with me being a part of it, for example... I would never wish to rejoin it even if it would help reshape it. Were it up to me, I suppose I would see it abandoned rather than go back to lyrium or trying to change a corrupt system from within. Selfish perhaps but if the way an organization operates serves to harm more or nearly as often as it aid the people of Thedas, why should it be allowed to continue?”

“I’m not sure,” Eilan admitted. “I don’t want to dismantle all of Thedas’ institutions, but I will if I have to. Everything has to change. I don’t know that we will manage all of it, but we can facilitate it. Start the process. If we remove Corypheus, we certainly stand a good chance.”

“More than a good chance. I am glad that you and Cassandra made a choice that worked for the pair of you. Sometimes you do have to put yourself first in order to help others. Besides, this Inquisition is yours and it needs to reflect that.”

“Thank you, Cullen.”

“I would feel better accepting your thanks if I didn’t know that it is only because of you that my views can shift or change. I am not sure…”

“Bad,” Eilan corrected with a gentle smile. "You're not supposed to do that, remember?"

Cullen glanced up, managing a small smile of his own.

“There’s to be no dwelling on what you might have done. If I’ve helped you, then I’m pleased to have done so. And I’m thankful to you for being willing to consider different approaches and accept strange end results.”

“Then… you’re quite welcome.”

Supper was quiet but candlelit and pleasant. Eilan wasn’t sure when he’d seen Cullen go so long without being interrupted by work of some kind.

After they ate, Eilan changed into something he could wear to bed. Cullen decided he ought to at least remove his armor. Both of them were a bit shy about it, but neither one had to leave the room. Cullen had needed some help with the armor anyway or so he had claimed. And, well, once the armor was off, Eilan couldn’t be blamed for getting rid of the underarmor shirt as well.

He sighed happily, pulling Cullen into a kiss. He let his hands slide down the Commander’s broad back. “You know, that monstrosity over there is allegedly a bed from Orlais. I haven’t used it yet.”

“You want… with me?”

“I want so much with you,” Eilan admitted. “I’ve wanted this with you for a long time.”

“As have I,” Cullen murmured before frowning. “But I can’t… Eilan, if I rush you into anything, I would never forgive myself.”

“I don’t feel rushed. I feel very happy.”

“You’re sure?”

“I am quite sure. I want you to keep courting me because it’s sweet... But I think that being with you like this is what I need. We’re both of us very keen on over-complicating so much of our lives. This could be simple if only we let it.”

“Nothing I feel for you is simple, but I take your meaning. Very well.” Cullen lightly pushed Eilan back towards the gilded mattress frame. “Let’s see about making a few Orlesian bedmakers blush.”

Eilan pulled Cullen down with him, arms wrapping around the Commander’s neck. “All right but you’re on the bed first. I have a few things I’ve been...um…considering.”

“Maker’s Breath… Have you practiced?”

Eilan wasn’t sure what to make of Cullen’s tone. It was a bit dark and hoarse but not displeased. Far from it, in fact. “I’m not sure I would call what I’ve done with Bull a warm-up, but I’d rather discuss the two of us. So you’re on the bed first.”

Once they were situated, Eilan kissed his way down from the scar on Cullen’s lips, pressing kisses against warm skin. He let his hands brush over the other man’s chest slowly down to Cullen’s thighs as he put his tongue to better use. Then his lips. He blushed as Cullen groaned and made a sound that was fairly close to be a strangled growl. He coaxed Cullen to a climax and was more than a little pleased when he draped himself over the other man. “Mm. That was good.”

Cullen caught his breath and raised an eyebrow. “Oh no you most certainly do not get to pass out on me after only that.”

Eilan chuckled. “I’m enjoying the moment. Savoring that sound you made.”

“Whereas I want more moments.” Cullen switched their positions. He bit lightly at Eilan’s shoulder once the mage was under him. “And more sounds.”

Eilan leaned up and kissed Cullen’s lips. He deepened the kiss, offering up a soft moan when Cullen did the same. “Is that so?” he managed once it was over.

“It is. I have done my fair share of considering when it comes to you, Inquisitor. And now that I can have you… Now that I don’t need to consider on my own… It’s all going to take a long time to accomplish all of the things I would like to do with you.”

“Hm. Did you bring your list of demands with?”

“I have every last detail of my list memorized. Along with several strategies and tactics even you won’t be able to resist.”

Eilan smiled, carding a hand through Cullen’s hair. “Try me, Commander.”

“Oh I intend to do far more than try.”

*

In the early hours of morning, Eilan woke up to Cullen twisting slightly. And then more significantly. EIlan had been curled up behind Cullen with his arms around the other man's waist, but he let go. He sat up slowly, unsure if he should reach out or keep his distance.

“No. Leave me,” Cullen murmured. He said it over and over again, breathing a bit harder. Then his eyes shot open. He glanced up then closed his eyes for a moment. "Oh."

“Bad dream?” EIlan asked quietly.

“They always are. Without the lyrium, it’s worse.”

“I see.”

Cullen sat up a bit more, cupping Eilan’s cheek with a hand. “I’m sorry if I worried you.”

“I’m not sorry that you did," Eilan said. "You can let me worry about you.”

“I suppose I can.”

Eilan kissed Cullen’s cheek before kissing his lips. When the kiss was over, he gently pressing their foreheads together and smiled reassuringly. “Despite bad dreams, I’m glad we’ve finally gotten to be together for an entire evening."

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“You are… I have never felt anything like this.”

“It’s pretty great,” Eilan cheerfully observed.

Cullen grinned. “I would have to agree.”

Eilan sank back down into the ridiculously sumptuous mattress. Everything about the canopied bed with extravagant and unnecessary, but it would-- or it could-- potentially work for three people. He smiled as Cullen turned to face him, more than content to let the Commander wrap his arms around him. “Is there anything I should avoid doing? Um. When you have bad dreams?”

Cullen hesitated then said: “Touching at first. Once I’m awake, I’ll be more than happy to let you near me. But when I’m not, I won’t realize it’s you. Not until we’ve done this more often. I’m not used to anyone being there. It’s just been me and… them...”

“And now there’s me.”

“Now there’s definitely you.”

“And maybe Bull?”

“Bull?”

“He likes you just fine. And he hates demons so he’d protect you too.”

Cullen laughed. “Very well. Maybe Bull.”

“I suppose you ought to be up soon?”

“More than likely. There is a great deal of work to be done.”

“I’m surprised none of your work found you here.”

Cullen smirked, brushing back a stray lock of Eilan's hair. “That, sweetheart, is because I was not foolish enough to tell anyone where I was hoping to wind up. Save for Bull, of course. I assumed the Inquisitor would not object to my having a night off."

“Smart man.”

“Occasionally. Do you think the bed has been put to the test?”

Eilan smiled. “I would say it has been properly tested... but not fully.”

“We ought to fix that.”

*

The rest of the week was full of planning for Adamant, lessons on manners and dancing for Halamshiral, and working on improving his ability to perform Knight-Enchanter spells.

Bull had thought the sword was cool even if he thought a real one was more practical. Dorian had been Eilan’s dance partner since Hawke was off with Stroud. Josephine needed to constantly correct his posture or hand placement. She also asked him ridiculous questions and statements that he had to respond to calmly even when they were horribly insulting.

“You also have to allow them to be… what’s a nice word for it…”

“Ill-mannered, bad-tempered children throwing tantrums at the slightly provocation,” Dorian supplied.

“Good enough,” Josephine said. “You have to allow them to be terrible. Terrible to anyone without a mask, terrible to anyone different, terrible to one another, and terrible to their servants. During all of this, you must remain polite, graceful, gracious, kind, and proper.”

“And how am I to do that?” Eilan asked. “I don’t like large groups of people at the best of time and this sounds…Honestly I’m not sure I should even go to the ball. Surely the rest of you could go in my stead and I can sneak in a window or something.”

“It will not all be so overt or hostile,” Josephine insisted. “Some of the insults and threats will be more subtle. None of this matters compared to you keeping up a good, positive, friendly appearance. Our main goal is--”

“I realize that. I do, but I am not sure what good it does me to mingle with these people.”

“When we first arrive... Until we understand what we’re up against and remove the threat, you will want to work towards earning court approval and favor.”

“As if I cared about such a thing.”

“You need not care,” Josephine said, “you simply must pretend. People will always treat others badly. And yes it is quite bad at times in Orlais, but servants are treated poorly here in Ferelden as well.”

“They had better not be here at Skyhold,” Eilan said, growing slightly angry at the thought. “Servant or not, if I find out that any of the people working for us feel that they are being treated unfairly or unkindly--”

“There is nothing like that occurring here. If there is, it will fall to me to sort it out and I will sort it out quite harshly,” Josephine assured him. “We also should discuss who you are bringing.”

Eilan sighed, willing to move on to the new topic. “The three of you are coming?”

“I think it would be wise. Leliana does well at parties. So do I. Cullen will be miserable but he’ll be helpful.”

It wasn’t precisely what Josephine was suggesting, but the idea of pointing out rude and horrible people to Cullen in the hopes of his taking them down a peg or two was an appealing one. “I suppose… Do you want to go, Dorian?”

“I would.”

“All right. So the three advisors… Dorian, Cassandra, Blackwall, Varric, and the Iron Bull.”

Josephine had been nodding and scribbling notes. Her quill screeched along her parchment when Eilan mentioned the Qunari. “Er,” she managed.

Dorian shook his head.

“What?”

“Even if he were not so very tall and wide... I’m not sure Bull would behave at a ball. He’s… large and ungainly and uncouth--”

“He is not. Or at least when he is it’s at a tavern or with his men where such behavior is perfectly acceptable. As for the rest of what he is, Bull is perfect just the way he is.”

“But not necessarily for an Orlesian ball,” Josephine pointed out.

Eilan rolled his eyes. “Right. Not with him swearing up a storm, eating all of the cheese, and belching as he demolishes casks of wine. Thank goodness he’s such a dim-witted beast of burden or he might do something shockingly inappropriate like a proper Qunari.”

Dorian sighed. “Inquisitor--”

“Don’t. He’s not some moronic clod that I’m having a fling with,” Eilan snapped. “And I’m done being nice about this to you or Vivienne or anyone else. I know very well that you don't think Bull could possibly attend a fancy dinner party full of rich snobs without ruining everything. Yet if any of those useless, silly nobles needed an errand run, a person killed, or a giant rounded up, they would have no trouble chucking coins at Bull until he took the job.”

“No one thinks he’s… Eilan, your private life--”

“Is also my life. I don’t care what you think and I certainly don’t care what they will think of him in Orlais. I am not ashamed of Bull as an ally or anything else. I won’t pretend to be. Not when he’s been… Not when he’s what he is to me. End of discussion.”

Dorian sighed. “Look, the fact is you can’t change the minds of people at the ball until you’ve proven yourself to them. I realize that means acting in ways you would not prefer to behave, but that is all it needs to be: an act. And one rather assumes that this experience is going to be difficult enough without you needing to rally to the defense of your friends. The rest of us won’t garner much in the way of attention. Bull will. Varric might as well.”

“Both of whom are quite capable of taking care of themselves and behaving. Or laughing it off. I don’t see myself needing to intervene on the behalf of either one. And I am not telling everyone else that they have to stay home because of their ears, horns, height, or girth. A healthy girth, I might add.”

Josephine sighed. “But you wouldn’t bring--”

“I wouldn’t bring the elves?” Eilan questioned irritably. “It wouldn’t make sense to do so. I will not subject Solas to whatever will happen there prior to the actual assassination attempt. I will not take Sera as I would be too worried about what she would do-- No, actually I’d be too worried I’d join her in whatever mischief she had in mind. I also wouldn’t take Cole there even if he is human...mostly... He’d be very upset as he was battered around and subjected to the toxic feelings of those present. Even if that wasn’t the case, he’ll pick up on how I feel and act accordingly.”

“Well, we can make this list of people will work,” Josephine decided. “Your reasoning is sound enough, and you are right that Varric and Bull will be able to handle the ball. It is only that we will need to talk to Bull.”

Eilan sighed heavily, pushing his frustrations aside. “No. You don’t need to talk to him. I’ll play the part we need performed for as long as we need it. So long as it serves the Inquisition.”

“Then whenever you cannot stand it, I would advise simply slipping away,” Josephine said. “You don’t need to engage with all of the people assembled there. Perhaps it is better if you avoid most of the unimportant ones. You know what masks to look for.”

“Right.”

“And considering that our main goal is finding the assassins none of us will want to remain in one area for long,” Dorian agreed.

“You don’t think they’ll be among the better dancers?” Eilan asked with a small smile.

Dorian laughed. “No, but it’s worth looking into. If any of them seem particularly lithe or flexible, I’ll… take note of it.”

Josephine cleared her throat. “When you leave, Inquisitor, it would be wise to go alone. At least initially. You will not want to disappear for long since your absence will certainly be noticed and remarked upon, but the castle ought to be searched. If you can find anything we can use against the more important people there, it will give us more control over them.”

Eilan nodded. “And less control over us for them. And us more power over the outcome of this matter.”

“Precisely,” Dorian said. “Considering how well you search when we’re looting or gathering materials, I’m sure you’ll find plenty of dirt in no time.”

“True.”

“For the sake of your own piece of mind, Eilan, remember that no one is suggesting you ignore what happens around. It is only that you have to react to it in a different way. You cannot openly or directly confront people. So be more passive-aggressive.”

“How so?”

“Well… If someone is unkind to their servant, you can always loudly offer that servant praise and compliments. If someone is on the verge of or in the middle of being insufferably rude, interrupt them and offer up a witty quote or story. Make them appear foolish or pointless or both. Make yourself the focus, the example of proper manners and breeding. In other words, play the game.”

“It’s going to be a very long ball,” Eilan said sadly.

Dorian patted his shoulder. “Come now, darling. Chin up. It’ll only be one night and you’ll be dressed to the nines. And after we’re done making those bastards love you, your heroics will ensure that you can all but take over Orlais. Then those nobles will embrace your behavior as the latest trend. And they will all want to be more like you and less like their dreadful selves.”

“Could that happen?”

Josephine chuckled. “It’s one possibility.”

“It’s something to hope for, at least,” Eilan mused.

“And now if you excuse me, I really ought to tend to other matters. The operations won’t complete themselves, after all.”

“Should we clean up?” Eilan asked.

“I’ll handle it later. In the mean time, there is no need to think about the Ball. You are heading for Adamant soon. We will pick up where we left off once you return, and we will focus on more practical matters. If time doesn’t allow for that, I think we should still be fine. You’re as prepared as you can be, and you will do well there. Just as you always do.”

“Thank you.”

Josephine nodded and took her leave, heading for the war council room.

“I think I’ll go back to my books,” Dorian said, moving to the door that lead back out in the main hall. He opened it, blinking up at Bull whose hand was slightly raised.

“Uh. Hello. I was about to knock. Eilan’s in here?”

“He is.”

The Qunari frowned, looking around the place. At the books on rules of etiquette and conversation. Scribbled diagrams on different masks and how to properly do certain things --like how to bow or how to fold a napkin or wear a sash-- were scattered all over Josephine’s desk and one additional table. Dance instructions were temporarily plastered on one wall.

Orlesian dancing, Dorian had assured Eilan, was nothing like to stomping and clomping nonsense one seems to do in Ferelden. Orlesian dancing was more refined and delicate. In Orlais, a dance was a duel between two seasoned opponents not the clumsy celebration of finishing work on a barn. It was uniquely acrobatic in some respects, requiring a good deal of flexibility. One also needed the right partner or, failing that, proper motivation to dance with a bold sort of passion. Usually a rival did the trick quite nicely.

“Hey, kadan,” Bull said when his eye finally came to rest on the Inquisitor.

Eilan offered up a fond smile. “Hey.”

Bull moved further into the room, pausing at the table. “Is this a tea set?”

“Yes.”

Bull eyed the blue porcelain of the plates and the floral pattern on the teapot. And then the napkins shaped like swans. “This is what you’ve been doing with your time?”

“Some of it.”

“Is this so you can fleece some old ladies out of their money? Hadn’t realized the Inquisition was falling on such hard times, but it’ll work. You’re cute and charming. Probably as pettable as a cat. And old ladies are lonely.”

EIlan laughed.

Bull grinned, helping himself to some scones.

Dorian rolled his eyes. “Oh yes, because there’s no important masquerade ball coming up. Only afternoon luncheons with the elderly for the Inquisitor. And obviously only old ladies drink tea or have any manners.”

“Obviously,” Bull agreed, mouth full of scone. He grunted after swallowing. “Who made these?”

“Oh dear. Something wrong with the scones no one asked you to eat?”

“Since you asked… Yeah. A little dry. Bit hard. Stale even.”

“Have you considered a napkin, Bull?”

“Nah. I’m not that hungry. I figured I’d just stick with food,” Bull said cheerfully as Dorian scowled at him. “So. What’s going on?”

“I wanted to ask you…”

Bull pocketed the other scone he was holding, giving Eilan his undivided attention. “Go ahead.”

“Would you… um… That is… Bull, would you like to go with me to the ball?” Eilan asked, feeling a little foolish. He knew he was asking mostly because he would need to ask each of his companions if they actually wanted to go, but it felt a little different to ask someone he was intimate with.

“Yeah, obviously,” Bull said, a little puzzled. “Were you worried I’d say no?”

“I just realized I’ve never asked anyone to a ball before.”

Bull smiled. “Is this the ball with the assassins or is this another ball where you need a plus one?”

“The one with the assassins.”

“Good. If another ball comes up, I’d go to that one too.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, sure, why wouldn’t I go with you?”

Dorian cleared his throat. “What the Inquisitor forgot to add is that there are some concerns.”

Bull crossed his arms. “Uh huh. Concerns about?”

Dorian sighed. “Very well…” The Tevinter mage paused as the Qunari stared down at him. Bull’s expression was a bit more serious than it had been before. The way it was if he wanted to intimidate someone but not enough to actually scare them. “It is only you are a very large person. Obviously the palace is a large place, but given that you do not look like the average Orlesian let alone behave as they do… You might… stand out? Potentially in a bad way.”

“Is this a concern Eilan has or you have?”

“A concern the Inquisition ought to have. It is merely something to consider, Bull. There will be food, yes, and amusements, but there will also be dancing, political intrigue, gossip, and a need for subtlety.”

“I don’t know if you knew this but my people tend to be this tall and this large. I can’t help it if the places we go are made for dainty, tiny people. I’ve managed to make things work in Orlais for years now. I’ve managed a lot of things that called for political savvy and subtlety. I’ve been to my share of pointless soirees. I’ve even been invited to some of them.”

“I realize--”

Bull crossed his arms. “Do you? What is it you think I’m going to do?”

Dorian shrugged, uncertain as to what to say.

“Normally, I’d tell you where to shove your concerns but… How about this instead? I’m not going to go embarrass the Inquisitor. I’m not going to make him feel uncomfortable. I’m not going to add to the crap he contends with. He’ll be miserable enough at this fucked-up excuse for a party. So let's assume he wants me to go because my being there would help or cheer him up.”

“Very well,” Dorian decided.

“Yeah, it is very well. He’ll do a great job at that ball. I think you already know that, but you and Josephine have enjoyed this…" Bull glanced around the room. "Whatever this is. You both like making things complicated.”

“That might be true.”

Bull reached a hand out to snatch up more scones then stopped. “Hm. No. You know what?” He snatched at Eilan instead, hauling him over one shoulder quickly but carefully. Eilan laughed, not resisting. “There. Your Inquisitor privileges are revoked for the rest of the day.”

“Oh for… We were done anyway,” Dorian pointed out.

“Good.”

“Yes, so you need not haul him around.”

“No?" Bull asked, putting a hand on Eilan's back. "I thought this was what large, clumsy ox people did.”

Dorian scowled.

“All right, all right. Stop glaring already.” Bull set Eilan down gently. He kissed the mage’s cheek and ruffled his hair. “There. Can we go? Is that okay with you, kadan?”

Eilan huffed out a laugh. “It’s perfectly alright with me, Bull. And I’m fine, Dorian. I like when he does that.”

“That’s as may be but… You can’t go around Skyhold like that.”

“Why?”

Bull grunted. “Might not be good for his image, huh? Guess that’s true.”

Eilan frowned. “I don’t care about my image.”

“You ought to,” Dorian urged. “Or be careful. Or discreet at least.”

“Let's not get carried away. I don’t think it matters _that_ much. Besides, you should stop worrying so much about what other people think of you,” Bull murmured, looking at Dorian. “Go wild. Let loose. Something.”

“Yes, well, if I shouldn’t care about what other people think of me or say, then I’ll start with you and your advice.”

“Pain in the ass,” Bull said, rolling his eye. “Fine, Vint. Enjoy the bad scones or whatever.”

They left, Bull’s hand grazing the small of Eilan’s back until they entered the main hall.

Eilan frowned, pulling the Qunari’s hand into his. “You don’t have to… I’m not ashamed of you and I like when you’re touching me.”

“I know.”

“And I really, really don’t care about my image.”

Bull steered him lightly towards his quarters. Eilan considered the throne and its stained glass windows. Then he looked away from them hurriedly. He’d caught up on various Judgements over the last few days and had no need to bother with the throne again for some time.

“Yeah,” Bull murmured. “I get that. We should probably still preserve some of your image though. We’re obviously going to be around each other a lot of the time. I don’t want to change anything about that, but… My carrying you around is something we can save for when we’re more alone. Or out and about. It’s definitely happening when you get fixated on herb-related nonsense.”

Eilan sighed. “I know it’s very complicated what with me being a mage and you being... you.” Eilan still couldn’t get used to calling Bull Tal-Vashoth and the word seemed to upset Bull so he privately thought of him as a Qunari. He just wasn’t sure he could say that either. “I know what people might think of that, but I would rather be honest. It’s so much easier.”

“It really is,” Bull agreed, letting go of Eilan’s hand. He held the door open, following the human until they reached Eilan’s room.

“Besides which,” Eilan added, turning to face Bull once they were finally alone, “I love you.”

Bull sighed in amusement, rubbing the back of his own neck. “And I love you. Not sure why we both have say it every five minutes, but I’ll do it for you.”

Eilan laughed. “I like how bashful you get when you say it.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Bull sat down on the bed, patting his knee. “Get over here and… Remember not to say that at the ball. We have to be professionals there.”

Eilan smiled, moving onto Bull’s lap and into his arms. “I’ll just have to resist the temptation then.”

“You’ll have to. Private rooms aren’t really an option.”

“Private rooms?”

Bull smirked. “Yeah. It’s an Orlesian party. And if I don’t go, what’s to keep you from getting dragged into a private room by someone else?”

“Cullen, one assumes. Or myself. I’m not about to allow anyone to drag me anywhere.”

“Yeah, I know, but I’d rather keep my eye on you. That’s just one of many reasons to go.”

“And chief among them is...?”

Bull tilted Eilan’s chin up and kissed his lips. “Well,” he said after several more kisses, “you asked me to go with you. Very sweetly, I might add.”

Eilan smiled. “Thank you, Bull.”

“You’re very welcome.”

“Have you really been invited to soirees?”

Bull grinned. “Invited? Not exactly. I’ve been a paid escort, but I figured there was no point telling Dorian that.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly just some downtime with Cullen and Bull. (Warning: a brief sex scene is in the first section.)
> 
> Thanks again to Tigercule for the beta! The rest of this week is a bit hectic for me so the next update will be Friday or Saturday. 
> 
> Until then, I'll mostly be working, writing, and playing Saints Row IV Re-Elected, which will probably result in writing a fic about a puckish rogue as an Inquisitor. He'll romance Dorian and probably be kadan to Iron Bull in the true bro sense of the word.


	25. Chapter 25

*

The next afternoon, Eilan found Hawke waiting outside of the war room with Varric. Inside, they were discussing options for an assault on Adamant Fortress. He left Varric and Hawke to finish catching up, but he was a bit relieved to catch Varric saying that he would be staying. For now, at any rate.

Adamant, as Cullen explained, was built before modern siege equipment. Unlike Redcliffe Castle, it was vulnerable to attacks.

"A good trebuchet will do major damage to those ancient walls--"

"We like good trebuchets around here," Eilan agreed.

Cullen smiled. "Yes, and thanks to our lady Ambassador..."

"Lady Seryl of Jader was pleased to lend the Inquisition her sappers," Josephine reported. "They've already delivered the trebuchets."

"That is the good news," Leliana said.

The bad news was fairly obvious. Erimond had been testing out the ritual when they'd encountered him. He'd been given ample time to move past the testing phase and into the creation of a demon army. There was no telling what they would be up against once they were inside of the fortress. There were choke points that Leliana had found. They could certainly use those to their advantage.

"We may not be able to defeat them outright," Cullen explained, "but if we cut off the reinforcements, we can carve you a path to Warden-Commander Clarel."

Eilan considered this. He wasn't looking forward to laying siege on a fortress full of demons, but Cullen was going to be leading their soldiers. "If you believe our forces can do it..."

"It'll be hard-fought, no way around it. But we'll get that gate open."

"It's also possible that some Wardens may be sympathetic to our cause," Josephine said.

"The warriors may be willing to listen to reason," Leliana said, "though I doubt they will turn against Clarel directly. The mages, however, are slaves to Corypheus. They will fight to the death."

"Until we've put an end to the magic enslaving them, they are our enemies," Eilan reluctantly agreed. "Once we've stopped the ritual or at least dealt with those responsible for what is happening at the fortress, we will not continue to kill those assembled there. Not without my speaking to them first and seeing what can be arranged.”

“Are you considering an alliance?”

“I would prefer to conscript them, but we will have to see what can be done. However, I do not want anyone killed once we have prevented the rituals and found the source of Corypheus’ false Calling. I want no harm to come to anyone we find there. This includes the Hero of Ferelden.”

"You think she will be there?" Cullen asked with a frown.

“Surana is a mage. I’m not sure she will be there.” Blackwall and Stroud have both resisted after all. “However, if I am wrong, the Warden will be formidable under Corypheus’ influence. If she can be saved, I should like to save her.”

All three advisors nodded, each weighed down with thoughts they didn’t feel much like sharing. Leliana and Cullen looked slightly more morose than Josephine, but then Leliana had been very close to Surana. And Cullen knew her as well.

Cullen was the first to break the silence. "We've built the siege engines and readied our forces, Inquisitor. Give the word, and we march on Adamant."

Eilan nodded, managing a thin but approving smile for all three of the others. “I would like to be ready to move out in two days’ time. I will talk to those I’m taking with me and see that they make reparations. I will leave the other preparations in your very capable hands.”

The ladies were quick to leave. Cullen lingered, gathering up more of a seemingly endless amount of paperwork.

Eilan pretended to look over the operations remaining on the table. Instead he was thinking that he hoped Anders being at Adamant was just as unlikely as Surana being there. He couldn’t let his people kill Anders and yet if he defended the other mage… How could he not? He wished he could say as much but he couldn’t imagine Cullen would care for that particular topic or set of hypothetical events.

“Maker’s Breath,” Cullen said after awhile. “Seeing the Hero of Ferelden at Adamant would be strange. After all this time… She was at Kinloch Circle. We exchanged pleasantries a handful of times. Before the Blight. I thought she was...nice.”

“How about when you saw her again?”

Cullen sighed. “I suppose I would have thought she was brave or lovely if I hadn’t been so caught on her being yet another mage. She wouldn’t do as I suggested but she saved my life. At the time it hardly felt like something to be even slightly grateful for.”

“And now?”

“Now? I should like to thank her again and sincerely. Particularly for not listening to me that day.”

“Whatever you told her... That was right after being tortured and tormented,” Eilan gently pointed out, placing a hand over Cullen’s. “You cannot compare that to other poor decisions you made when you were in your right mind. And the past is… Well, we’ve talked about this. The past is utter bullshit at this point.”

Cullen smiled.

“Do you want to go get a drink? I’m meeting Bull for one. To celebrate the dragon we killed.”

Cullen arched one brow. “Another one? You’ve only killed the two dragons, I’d thought.”

“Just the two so far.”

“Then… wouldn’t this celebration be a bit belated?”

Eilan colored slightly. “Oh, we’ve celebrated both dragon-slayings quite a bit. It’s just that as far as Bull is concerned, we don’t ever have to stop celebrating the second one until we kill a third. I’m trying to find more dragons although I’m not going to hunt them down until after Adamant.”

“They could make for a nice break before the Ball,” Cullen agreed. “The Storm Coast has the one you mentioned.”

“Yes, the one that was fighting a giant.” He’d seen that particular dragon right after he’d found Bull and the Chargers. Eilan had all but run the other way and everyone else had followed after him. He suspected Bull would have stayed and fought both monstrosities if the Qunari been given the choice. 

“If you’d like the additional assistance, we could always make a stop at Emprise du Lion. There’s three dragons there. It might make for a nice outing before we're off to Halamshiral.”

Eilan grinned. “I would love your assistance. And you just happened to learn this because...?”

Cullen laughed. “You seemed pretty pleased about killing those dragons too. Especially... Hm. What was the name of the second one again?”

“Gamoran Stormrider.”

“Truly bizarre.”

Eilan smiled. “Yes, it was a strange experience.”

“No. I mean, yes, I’m sure it was...”

“Only?”

“Only why would a dragon need a last name?”

Eilan chuckled. “I’m not sure. Want to come with and ask Bull?”

Cullen shook his head. “I’d rather not interfere with celebrations connected to battles I didn’t participate in.”

“You could be included. Bull wouldn’t have any objections. He's not like that.”

“I know,” Cullen assured him. “To be more honest… I don’t think I have the time. There is much for me to do if we’re leaving in just two days.”

“Oh,” Eilan said, feeling a little guilty. “Cullen, if there’s work to do…”

“This is why precisely why I was hoping to avoid discussing this,” Cullen murmured. "Eilan, there is work for me to do and none of it is the sort I’m inclined to share. After I’m done with my part, we’ll all go over it. Then you’ll be given ample opportunity to do your fair share. We always leave the hardest parts to you anyway.”

“More like the heroic and action-packed ones. I feel like a brightly-colored mascot half of the time.”

Cullen snorted. “A mascot indeed. I hate to be the one to tell you this, my love, seeing as you do more in a fortnight than most people do in a lifetime... But you can’t personally be involved in every single task assigned to everyone everywhere in Thedas. Some of this is called ‘grunt work’ for a reason. Leave something for the rest of us to do, please.”

Eilan nodded glumly.

Cullen tugged him over and into a hug. “You might not see it as dangerous, but the things you do… Sweet Andraste, but I loathe a majority of the things you do. Particularly when you’re out of my line of vision.”

Eilan laughed.

“I’m serious. Once this is siege business is over, I am determined to keep you by my side for at least two days in a row.”

Eilan leaned against Cullen, nuzzling at his neck. “Mm. I’d let you, you know. Once this is siege business is over. Longer would be more to my liking, but there’s so much to do.”

“Exactly. I spend a great deal of my days here re-reading your letters and hoping a dragon won’t eat you before I get another one. And now there’s darkspawn everywhere. And demons. And giants. And idiotic blood mages. And red templars. And Maker only knows what else.”

“I can handle all of that.”

“I’m not going to stop worrying because you’re capable of looking after yourself. That’s not how it works.”

“I suppose that’s true.”

“The best I can do for you is to be good at my job. And my job is to try to provide you with the manpower and strategies you need to accomplish whatever improbable feat you’ve set your mind to. A job that is only possible thanks to working with other people. I could do nothing for you without Leliana’s information and Josephine’s connections. And I feel like we’re constantly sending you into a burning building to save an untold number of lives with only a short prayer and half a plan.”

“You do excellent work.”

Cullen kissed his cheek before letting him go. “So do you, and you’ll have plenty of things to do shortly. That being the case, you ought to relax tonight. Train or prepare more tomorrow.”

“But… Shouldn’t I… That is… I suppose you don’t need help then?”

Cullen shook his head. Then he smirked. “That’s sweet, my love, but I hardly need help with my job. Now. Suppose yourself over to the tavern, and leave me to come up with a proper plan.”

“Do you want a kiss for good luck at least?”

“I'd happily take one of those off your hands. Then shoo, would you?”

*

After spending the rest of the afternoon checking on the others, Eilan finally made his way to the tavern. Despite his protests that they were welcome to stay, the Chargers were quick to find somewhere else to be. Eilan suspected they’d received something approaching a death glare from their leader. It was hard to tell. When he turned to look at Bull, the Qunari just shrugged and his expression was neutral.

“How has your day been?” Eilan asked, sitting down next to Bull. They were at their usual table in the corner of the room.

“Good for the most part.”

“For the most part?”

“Cole and Sera got at it again. Or she got into it with him. Or he set her off somehow. Dunno exactly, but he was a fidgety mess and she was being a little shit so... I broke it up. Scolded her until she ran off. Then I suggested Cole spend the rest of the day someplace else.”

Eilan sighed. 

“Hey, at least she didn’t start shit with Krem again.”

“I just wish she wouldn’t start anything with anyone.”

“That’s just the sort of person she is. She’s got no clue how to get the good kind of attention so she gathers up as much of the bad stuff as she can. Keeps it with her along with all the other junk she’s hoarding in her room. Waits to see if today’s the day she’s worn out her welcome and someone tells her to fuck off. Can’t figure out that’s not exactly how it works around here. Reminds me of Gatt.” 

Eilan cupped Bull’s cheek briefly. “I’m glad you’re here to monitor the situation.”

“You might not be if she keeps it up. And you should probably know that Varric and Solas talked to her too.”

“I should talk to her too then.”

“At some point,” Bull agreed. “I’d say you’ve got enough on your plate for now. And I think she needs to hear that she can’t do this from more people than you. It’ll help it to sink in. I mean, after today? I’d be pretty surprised if she hasn’t figured out she can’t pull that crap here or basically anywhere else in Skyhold.” 

“Should I look for Cole?”

“Nah. I’m sure he’s either having an awkward tea party with Solas or hearing all kinds of fairy tales from Varric.”

Eilan smiled. “All right.”

“And she’s not wrecking my evening with you.”

“Not when we have dragons to celebrate.”

“Exactly.” Bull rose to his feet. “I’ll go get us some drinks.”

The Qunari returned with a very large mug and a wine glass. He set the glass down then he held the mug out. “Wanna try mine?”

“Sure.” Eilan managed half a sip before choking. His throat burned as he eyed the mug suspiciously. "Ugh."

“Lightweight.”

“It certainly seems that way. What is this?”

“Sun Blonde. From Vint-1.”

“Is that…” Eilan took another sip and then sniffed the mug’s contents. “Is that catsbane?”

“Probably. Give it back.”

“Very well. What is it that I’m having?” Eilan asked, inspecting the glass that had been set down in front of him.

Bull smirked. “Carnal.”

“Yes you are, but what am I drinking?” Eilan teased.

Bull grinned.

“Out with it. What is Carnal?”

“Orlesian liquor. From 8:69 Blessed or some shit. Supposed to enhance the sensations.”

“Oh. Um. Will that be good?”

“I can’t see how it would hurt, but you’re just going with the one glass. And if you don’t want it, I’m sure there’s something else.”

Eilan smiled. “I’m sure it’s fine. And I’m sure I could handle more than one.”

“I’m sure one is enough. Enhancing is one thing. Stumbling around is another. As for the drink selection, these are the bottles you found. And as much fun as it is to watch you gag on things, I figured I’d take pity on you.”

“Out of love?”

Bull took a long swig of his drink. “Out of a keen interest in enhancing, extending, and increasing your pleasure.”

Eilan colored slightly, giving the Qunari a look. “Is that how we’re going to celebrate all of our dragons?”

“I kinda figured it’s how we’ll end up celebrating everything.”

“I could live with that.” Eilan picked up his glass and took a sip. “This is good. Should...we toast or something?”

“Toast or something?”

To bold deeds or um...daring hearts or… I don’t know. I’m not… very good at this part of adventuring.”

“The part where we get pleasantly buzzed? You’ll figure it out.” Bull lightly clinked his mug against Eilan’s glass. “To vanquishing two dragons and rapidly locating the rest. And?”

“To us,” Eilan said firmly before having some of his drink.

Bull snorted. “You sap. Fine. To dragon-slaying and to us. And to all of it, _taarsidath-an halsaam_.”

“And that’s applicable to both?”

“Oh, I’d say so.”

Eilan smiled curiously, sipping his drink. “You shout that a lot when there’s a dragon around. Loudly too.”

Bull laughed. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. What does it mean?”

“I will bring myself sexual pleasure later, while thinking about this with great respect.”

Eilan turned beet red. “...it does not.”

“It does so.”

“And you just... shout this?”

“I’m not ashamed of how I feel, but you will notice I’ve only done it in Qunlat. If I said that so that everyone understood, you’d get all shy and squirmy and irresistible. Can’t have everyone figuring out how stupid they were for not getting to you first.”

Eilan rolled his eyes, but he was pleased.

“It’s only for people or things that warrant such praise, kadan. That’s a short list.”

“Made up of?”

“You. And dragons.”

“I guess I should be flattered. Especially since you put me first, but um… you don’t have to do that alone. The pleasure part, I mean.”

Bull grinned. “You’re really cute,” he murmured. “I’m going to sometimes. It’s not exactly my preference, but I’m a man with needs. Pretty sure I get to keep you tonight though.”

Eilan smiled. “Tonight I’m all yours. But… When you said it to the dragons... The first one was setting you on fire at the time. And the second one had just zapped you with lightning bolts.”

“Good times. I also said it when you finished off the first one. And the second one.”

“I think Blackwall landed the killing blow the second time.”

“Nah. He helped, sure, but you got the job done.”

“Were you even paying attention to what he was doing?”

Bull finished off his drink. “Not even a little bit,” he admitted with a smirk.

“Dragons are that fascinating?”

“You are.”

“Oh please.”

“You asked. ‘Sides. I’d rather have you than one hundred dead dragons.”

Eilan wrinkled his nose as he laughed. “I should hope so. That sounds like a disgusting mess to clean up.”

“Good looting though. Drink up.”

*

Sometime later, they ended up in his quarters. Eilan was fairly certain the process had been undignified although he wasn’t sure it had been that way for him or Bull or both of them. Once they were sitting on the new Orlesian couch he’d been brought, he was too busy touching Bull’s horns to care. “These feel nice. I don’t know about new sensations though.”

Bull snorted, looking amused. “Honestly, it was one glass.”

“And this is research,” Eilan insisted. He was sitting in Bull’s lap, facing him and petting each horn slowly. 

“Research on?”

“You. It’s hard to figure out how to take care of a Qunari.”

“In a look after me or murder me in my sleep sort of way?”

Eilan frowned. “Look after you sort of way. Obviously.”

Bull smiled. “Ah. I’ve got no complaints.”

Eilan brushed his fingers over Bull’s right horn. He grinned as something occurred to him. “Aw.”

“What?”

”Cole was right about these, you know. They are a lot like dragon’s horns.”

“Yeah. Can’t believe I missed out on that opportunity.”

“It’s all right. It’s cute,” Eilan said, kissing Bull’s lips. He ducked his head, nuzzling the Qunari’s neck. “It’s like you’re a little dragon.”

“...Please never call me that again. So, look,” Bull said. He kissed Eilan’s cheek when the human looked up at him, “I doubt now is the time for research but...What is it you want to know about looking after me?”

“Well, you don’t seem to get cold, but I’d like to know what to do when you’re sick. Or um…”

“You do a great job fielding my other moods. You take good care of me and you take good care of everyone.”

“Yes, but… It’s you I worry about. Like with your horns, for example. What should I be doing for them?”

“Probably less of what you’re doing if you want a long conversation,” Bull admitted, shifting slightly. “They’re sensitive.”

“So it does feel nice.”

“I never said it didn’t, kadan. My horns are fine. Maybe a little scarred and banged up like the rest of me, but that’s how it goes.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the rest of you. I love your horns and the rest of you, scars and bruises and everything.”

“Thanks.”

“But when it comes to the horns you don’t need any… cleaning or anything?”

Bull chuckled. “You wanna to polish my horns?”

“I could if you wanted me to.”

“I would like you to keep--” Bull groaned as Eilan rubbed at one of the larger scars on his left horn. “Yeah, keep doing that.”

“All right. What other things do you need me to do?”

“What would you like to do?”

“Well, sometimes you get tense. I could work on your shoulders. Or your back. And your hands could probably use a massage. Or your feet. We do a lot of traveling.”

“I don’t really need pampering. And sex is a pretty good cure-all. If you want to grip my horns sometimes? Like maybe if I was pinning you down to the kickass new bed we got? I’d be pretty happy with that.”

Eilan colored slightly. He was going to blame it on the one glass of Carnal if asked. “Oh.”

“You’d be pretty happy with that too, huh?”

“Well, yes, but… it’s just that sometimes I like just being with you.”

“Same here,” Bull assured him. “But you don’t have to try and trick me into cuddling with you.”

“I know.”

“This isn’t a nice ass-backwards way of suggesting I’m really bad at personal grooming and hygiene, right?”

“Of course not.”

“And you know I’m not an invalid or an Orlesian duke in disguise?”

Eilan laughed. “I know.”

Bull nodded thoughtfully. “All right. I’ll indulge you indulging me but… not in front of my men, okay? I mean, they know I’m… really, really into you but they don’t need to know that we’re so... cuddly.”

“It’s mostly you.”

“It’s totally you. Don’t smile at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re going to laugh and nuzzle my nose and call me a cuddly little dragon.”

“What if I did?”

“If you did, I would have to carry you to bed and distract you from being ridiculous. In a non-violent and loving but very effective sort of way.”

“Hm.” Eilan grinned and licked Bull’s cheek. “You can be my giant sexy dragon if you want.”

Bull picked him up. “Still taking you to bed now.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got the info for the drinks from the codex [here](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Codex_entry:_Bottles_of_Thedas). 
> 
> The next update should be Monday or Tuesday. Thanks again to Tigercule for the beta! 
> 
> It has been one heck of a week for me. Today I am feeling profoundly unmotivated, but I'm going to try to get more writing done. Wish me luck. :)


	26. Chapter 26

*

The siege on Adamant was successful thanks to ladders, sappers, trebuchets, and a battering ram. However, the entire enterprise was an arduous and costly venture. A lot of brave men and women died providing cover fire as well as entry into the fortress. In addition to crazed Grey Wardens there were, as Leliana had anticipated, a large number of demons.

Once the battering ram’s iron fist pierced the metal doors of Adamant, Eilan made his way inside.

“All right, you have your way in,” Cullen said. “Might as well make use of it. We’ll keep the main host of demons occupied as long as we can.”

“I’ll be fine. Just keep the men safe.”

“We’ll do what we have to.”

“Then remember what you promised me, Commander.”

Cullen smiled briefly. “As if I’d forget, Inquisitor.”

Eilan smiled back.

“Warden Stroud will have your back.” 

Eilan nodded. Blackwall, Dorian, Varric, and Bull would as well. And having Hawke accompany them was why Eilan had left the other mages to aid with the on-going assault on the fortress. “Where is she?”

“With our soldiers on the battlements. She’s assisting them until you arrive.” 

They both turned, looking grim as another soldier fell screaming from the battlements. If Hawke was up there, it seemed that she would end up needing assistance too.

“There's too much resistance on the walls. Our men on the ladders can't get a foothold.”

"Then let me do what I can."

"Right. Once you clear out the enemies, we'll cover your advance."

Moving into the main bailey, Eilan could hear a Warden demanding others to leave him be, that he wanted no part in the ritual taking place. It wasn’t very difficult to save the warrior as well as several other Wardens from demons and mindless mages.

"The Inquisition is here to stop Clarel," he assured them, "not to kill Wardens. If you fall back, you won't be harmed."

Thankfully the request was viewed as a reasonable one. Eilan sent them on their way to find Cullen, feeling a little relieved.

“Well said,” Stroud observed, sounding relieved as well. "I had hoped some of the Wardens would listen to reason."

“It’s a nice change of pace,” Eilan agreed.

“One we can’t get used to just yet,” Varric reminded them. “Good though. This whole going places and killing everyone there routine's getting kinda stale.”

Bull snorted. “If you say so.”

They moved on, clearing out enemies and a spot for the ladders below.

All manner of demons could be found along the battlements, all of them bound to a Warden who couldn’t be spared. Thankfully, there was not a great deal of time to stop and think about it. Inquisition soldiers were quick to rally and defend the first siege point, allowing the rest of them to advance just as Cullen had ordered.

At the second siege point, they found a set of stairs with golden griffins at the top of them. They also found a Pride Demon.

"Blood Mages!" Hawke was yelling as she began attacking it. "It's always blood mages!"

“And fucking demons,” Bull muttered.

Once the fight was over and the Pride Demon faded away, Hawke managed a tense little smile. “Always a pleasure, Inquisitor.”

“I hope I didn’t interrupt too much.”

Hawke grinned, the expression a bit more genuine now. “I’ve killed my fair share of these big guys waiting for you so I’d say it’s about time you showed up.”

“Would you be willing to do a bit more protecting? I’d like for you to stay with my forces and see that they survive this.”

“Your wish is my command.”

There was one more siege point and one more Pride Demon ahead. They made short work of it.

“All right,” Varric said, “that’s the last of them. The area’s clear.”

“I suggest we keep moving,” Dorian insisted, when Eilan went to gather up whatever loot there was to be had. “Soldiers get tired. Demons, not so much.”

Eilan took Bull’s hand in his for a second as they pressed on.

Bull shook him off, but only after, Eilan noted, a significant squeeze of his fingers. “There had better be dragons again soon.”

“Yes, dear, but you don’t have to worry. I’ll protect you.”

“I know that,” Bull said in a low rumble. “Still don’t like it, but I know.”

*

Hawke was waiting nearby for them. To the surprise of virtually no one and gratitude of many soldiers, she had lived up to her reputation and had done a remarkable job on the battlements.

"Not all the Wardens have stood against us. Maker willing, we may be able to reason with Clarel."

"Commander Cullen will hold a path open for us as long as possible, Inquisitor," a senior Inquisition officer assured him. "Our forces are ready when you are."

They moved away from the battlements into the fortress proper. They found some more Wardens and demons along the way, but they eventually arrived at the spot where the ritual was taking place. Grey Warden mages stood around a massive stone staircase. In the middle of them was a swirling green mist.

"I wonder why everything is always so green," Dorian muttered. "It's a nice color and all but wouldn't red be more menacing?"

"It would certainly be less blinding," Varric agreed.

“Are slime demons a thing?” Bull asked.

“Not so far,” Hawke said with a shrug. “But your Inquisitor seems to find all the new kinds of demons.”

“Yeah. Noticed that.”

Blackwall seemed to have very little to say, but then he was probably focused on the task at hand. Levity didn’t bring him the same sort of comfort or satisfaction as it did to the rest of the group.

And then Eilan spotted them: Lord Erimond and Warden-Commander Clarel. She was on the steps above her people, pacing in front of them. He was behind her, taking it all in and probably cackling manically to himself.

"Wardens," she began, "we are betrayed by the very world we have sworn to protect."

As if seeking to correct Eilan's assumption, Erimond moved to her side. "The Inquisition is here, Clarel. We have no time to stand on ceremony."

"These men and women are giving their lives, Magister. That might mean little in Tevinter, but for the Wardens, it is a sacred duty."

Another, older Warden joined them.

"It has been many long years, my friend."

The other Warden bowed to her. "Too many, Clarel. If my sword arm can no longer serve the Wardens, then my blood will have to do."

She moved behind him, dagger in hand. "It will," she said sadly. And she slit his throat.

As Eilan and his party moved to confront, Erimond called out to the other Wardens: “Stop them! We must complete the ritual!”

"Clarel, if you complete that ritual, you will aid no one. You will sacrifice your people to a cause unworthy you. Of them. If you know that the lives of your people mean so little to Tevinter, how can you think they will mean anything to Erimond? How do you know what it is that he wants?"

"Fighting the blight," Erimond shouted. "Keeping the work safe from darkspawn. Who wouldn't want that?" The Tevinter Magister folded his arms. "And yes, the ritual requires blood sacrifice. Hate me for that if you must, but do not hate the Wardens for doing their duty."

"It is not the Wardens whom I hate as you well know. This is not our first meeting, coward. You ran from me, leaving Warden mages to die in your stead. You will not escape me now. As for the duty of the Wardens--"

"We make the sacrifices no one will," Clarel insisted. "Our warriors die proudly for a world that will never thank them."

"And then your Tevinter ally binds the mages to Corypheus!" Stroud said.

"Corypheus? But he's dead."

"These people will say anything to shake your confidence, Clarel."

"And he will say anything to gain it," Eilan shouted. "Think about what you're doing. About the world you're hoping to save. Surely there is time for that. If not, I will give you time. I do not wish to fight you.”

The Warden-Commander stared at him, unblinking and uncertain.

“Think, Clarel. What do you think your ritual will do? Provide salvation for those you’ve sworn to protect with your very lives or a breeding grounds for countless demons? Demons born from the blood of your brothers and sisters? Which seems more likely?"

Clarel brought a gloved hand to her head. “Bring it through.”

The Warden mages focused on the glowing, green mist and the rifts growing within it. They rippled, coming together to form a larger green tear. Something lurked right inside of it. Large with many legs, but Eilan couldn’t make out anything else besides that.

Once the rift held its shape, the mages turned, preparing for a fight. Different powers crackled and sizzled in their hands and staves.

Eilan moved forward followed by Stroud and by Hawke.

“Please,” Hawke said. "I have seen more than my share of blood magic. It is never worth the cost! Can you not see that?"

"I trained half of you myself!," Stroud added. "Do not make me kill you to stop this madness!"

The rift opened wider. Something screeched from within.

"Be ready with the ritual, Clarel. This demon is truly worthy of your strength."

"Stop this," Eilan ordered, looking from her to each of the other mages. "You know better than I that the Grey Wardens have a proud history. You stopped the Blight of the Silent Plains. Starkhaven. Hunter Fell. Ayesleigh. And Denerim. And what of the Hero of Ferelden? I do not see her among you. Does that not trouble any of you? Why would she not come if this was truly the path for the Grey Wardens? This world owes her and each one of you a debt it can never repay. I would not stand against you if I did not know you were being misused."

The Wardens turned to Clarel. Or, perhaps more accurately, to Erimond, her puppeteer. At least it was clear she was making him work for it.

"Clarel," Erimond said in an urging, almost soothing tone, "we have come so far. You're the only one who can do this."

"Perhaps we could test the truth of these charges, to avoid more bloodshed."

“Or perhaps I should bring in a more reliable ally.”

Erimond slammed his staff down, red sparks sizzled as it hit the stone floor beneath him. He raised it again and hit the floor several times in rapid succession. "My master thought you might come here, Inquisitor. He sent me this to welcome you!"

The archdemon. Eilan almost closed his eyes, feeling miserable. No one had listened. He would have been better off attacking them all and avoiding this. But at least he had tried.

Red fire rained down as the archdemon circled overhead. Eventually the archdemon landed on a tower, looking down at them. It let a sound somewhere between a screech and a roar.

“Fucking archdemon. Fucking all sorts of shitty demons,” Bull muttered, steadying Eilan once they were a safe distance away. “Fucking talking. Fucking Wardens. Fucking Tevinter. Fucking Corypheus. Fucking _everything_ at this point.”

“My sentiments exactly,” Dorian said as he joined them. “Which is precisely how I know the world is truly falling apart.”

Clarel flinched, moving back. It seemed she would continue to retreat as Erimond kept his back to her. Then she electrocuted him with a chain lightning spell.

The Tevinter Magister crumpled to the ground as the Warden-Commander stared up at the archdemon. In one hand she held her staff and the clenched fist of her other hand began to glow blue.

“Clarel, wait,” Erimond insisted in a pathetic tone. 

She didn’t. She sent another Storm spell up at the archdemon. It responded with more red fire, nearly burning her and Erimond as well. “Help the Inquisition!” she shouted out.

She ran ahead, chasing after Erimond. Eilan chased after both of them until they arrived at the remains of a ruined bridge.

Eilan wanted to feel more than a vague sympathy for her, but that was the best he could manage. This wasn't like Cassandra discovering the truth about the Seekers. Before the practice rituals and the demons, Clarel had to have known all along that blood magic never solved anything. She had been a mage before she'd been a Grey Warden. How could she not realize the dangers in soliciting aid from demons?

As a Grey Warden, her job was to do never shy away from doing the right thing no matter the cost. Her job was not to fail this abysmally. More importantly, Clarel was a Warden-Commander. She was a leader who had to know her own limits and those of her people. The Wardens shouldn't have followed her like so many stray sheep, but that didn't excuse her role in leading them to this ruinous, calamitous conflict. How could a leader have made so many poor decisions when so much as at stake? How could a leader fail to understand that nothing from anyone, let alone a Tevinter Magister with no moral compass to speak of, came without a price?

Clarel walked through a well-timed Inferno spell as if it was nothing, her blue barrier crackling as she kept moving forward. "You! You've destroyed the Grey Wardens!" She sent out a Stonefist and Erimond crumpled to the floor again.

Not that he seemed to care. He only laughed hoarsely. "You did that to yourself, you stupid bitch."

She hadn't. Not really. Had she? If she had done it to herself, surely she had been helped, pushed, and prodded every step of the way. She must have intended for something entirely different, surely... And Clarel had been brave in the face of an archdemon and the shattering of so many cherished illusions. And yet it was hard at that moment-- what with an archdemon overhead, demons scattered all about, and a rift to the Fade still open-- to decide how much that mattered.

"All I did was dangle a little power before your eyes. And you couldn't wait to get your hands bloody!"

And like that Eilan decided that it mattered. Her intentions mattered. Right or wrong, she wasn’t like Erimond. She was not deserving of Eilan’s contempt even if he could not grant her his understanding. But it was one thing for Eilan to personally feel that Clarel had let her people down. It was another for this absolute prick to act as if he’d corrupted her utterly. He hadn’t corrupted her. He hadn’t twisted her around his little finger. That much was clear.

Clarel flung Erimond away from her with a Storm spell.

“Shut up,” Eilan shouted. He kept his distance, but he froze the Tevinter Magister in place. “You are a vile, pathetic leech of a mage, but we are not all like you. Clarel is many things but she is not like you.”

The Warden-Commander advanced on the Tevinter mage.

The coward curled up on himself on the stone bridge. "You should be more like me. You could have served a new god," he said.

"I will never serve the Blight,” Clarel assured him.

Eilan moved towards her as the others joined them. But then the archdemon landed, grabbing her in its mouth so that only the lower half of her body was hanging from its teeth. It flew up to a higher perch on the other half of the bridge, letting her body fall down.

Clarel tumbled to the stones, lying still but still alive. The archdemon moved towards them slowly, seemingly willing to play with its potential food.

Eilan cast a barrier around as many of his companions as he could, wondering how they’d manage to survive this. And wondering just what he could do to Erimond once the dragon was defeated. It was better to think about that than the archdemon’s enormous maw and what he’d seen it do seconds earlier.

Clarel inched away, crawling along the stones. “In war, victory…”

The archdemon continued to advance, paying her no attention.”

Clarel stopped, rolling onto her back and staring up. Her hand glowed blue as she prepared another Storm spell. “In peace, vigilance...”

The archdemon lunged forward and she released her attack. The bridge split and the archdemon fell back. And down into the dark chasm below.

The bridge continued to crumble. Eilan grabbed at Stroud when the Warden fell, and they all ran as fast as they could trying to get to a more solid part of the fortress.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t fast enough. Eilan fell hard against the stones as they tumbled backwards after the archdemon. Down into the abyss.

The others were falling around him, and he forced himself calm for their sakes.

Without stopping to think too much about what he was doing, Eilan put his hand out in front of him as he kept falling. Aiming the anchor into the darkness below, he summoned up a green, massive rift into the Fade.

*

Eilan plummeted down before the world seemed to slow and reverse itself. He was flipped over and then he landed with a thud onto the hard ground. And the world kept rolling over on itself. He closed his eyes, waiting for it to stop.

 _In death, sacrifice_ , Eilan thought when he opened his eyes again. If he wasn’t already dead or dying... Would he have the courage to die if it meant he’d save the rest of Thedas? He hoped it never came to that. He didn’t think he could willing give up on life just yet.

He got shakily to his feet, noticing Stroud on a rock face near by. The Warden was at a very odd angle, but didn’t seem to be in danger of falling.

Hawke was close by as well. She was hanging upside down and looking around. "If this is the afterlife," she said, "the Chantry owes me an apology. This looks nothing like the Maker's bosom."

The others seemed to be relatively alright. Or, well, mostly all right. They were all in one piece and they were all having a wide range of reactions to the Fade. Most of it was manageable or dismissible. For the time being anyway.

They all looked around taking in the gloomy, strange atmosphere. The ground seemed solid enough and fencing them in were large, jagged rocks. The rest of the place seemed looked like a ghastly green marshland. Black green waters bubbled over. High above them in the sky swirled the green rift.

"No," Stroud agreed. "The Inquisitor used the mark to open another rift."

“The Fade looked much different the last time I was here,” Hawke mused.

"The first time I was in the Fade," Dorian said, "it looked like a lovely castle filled with gold and silks. I met a marvelous desire demon, as I recall. We chatted and ate grapes before he attempted to possess me. Perhaps the difference is that we are here physically. This is no one's dream."

Blackwall grunted his disapproval. “Does this remind you of anything, Inquisitor? You have been to the Fade before as well.”

“I don’t know.” Eilan continued looking around. He had no memory of his first visit to Fade, but there had to have been one. “I still don’t remember anything.”

"No sense worrying about that now then.”

“And we can’t assume we're safe here," Hawke said. "That huge demon was right on the other side of that rift Erimond was using, and there could be others."

“Did you get a good look at it?” Eilan asked. “I knew it was something massive. I saw a lot of legs, I think.”

“I saw a lot of eyes,” Stroud said.

“I saw huge fangs,” Hawke put in.

“Congratulations, kids,” Varric wryly replied. “You all saw parts of a giant demon spider.”

Hawke grinned. “Just like old times, eh?”

“Old times where that huge-ass spider dropped down from the cave ceiling after we’d just killed about half a dozen giant spiders?”

Hawke sighed wistfully. “Aveline was very brave that day.”

Varric chuckled. “She had to be. The rest of us were screaming and hiding behind each other.”

“Yes, well… In my defense it was trying to land on my head.”

Cassandra was watching them, smiling thoughtfully. It seemed likely she’d heard this story before.

Dorian shuddered. Then he scowled. “Of course it’s a demon spider. What else would it be?”

"This is shitty.”

Eilan startled slightly, not realizing Bull had moved to stand next to him. He managed a small smile though, touching Bull's hand when it came to rest on his shoulder.

Bull was not a man with many tells. And yet, given the level of intimacy between them, Eilan felt that Bull was all but radiating distress and discomfort. This was only reinforced by how eager Bull to keep on touching Eilan, eventually moving his hand from the mage’s shoulder to the small of his back.

"I'll fight whatever you give me, boss, but nobody said nothing about getting dragged through the ass end of demon town."

"In our world, the rift the demons came through was nearby," Stroud pointed out. "In the main hall. Can we escape the same way?"

“There’s only one way to found out,” Eilan said. He started walking, past the bubbling waters and rocks. And piles of skulls and candles and all sorts of other strange things scattered about.

“‘Hey, chief,’” Bull said, mimicking Krem’s voice. “'Let's join the Inquisition! Good fights for a good cause!'” I don't know, Krem,” he added, switching back to his own. “I hear there are demons. 'Aw, don't worry about the demons, chief. I'm sure we won't see many!' Asshole.”

“I’ll protect you,” Eilan said quietly, not wanting the others to hear him repeat the offer. Or, rather, not wanting Bull to feel embarrassed or stupid about needing reassurance.

“Hey, don’t,” Bull said with a sigh, tugging lightly on Eilan’s braided hair. “I mean, do protect me, obviously, but… Don’t do anything that seems noble.”

“What would seem noble?”

“No dying on me. This is bad enough without that happening.”

“I’ll be fine, Bull.”

“Yeah.” Not too long after that, Bull loudly added: “Hey, everyone! If I get possessed, feint on my blind side, then go low. Cullen says I leave myself open.”

“Everyone ignore that,” Eilan insisted. “No one is getting possessed and… You two spar?”

“Sometimes. Can’t just practice with the Chargers. I’d get all rusty. No one wants that.”

Eilan scowled up at him. “You two are the worst.”

“Sometimes,” Bull agreed, sounding slightly less tense. He glanced down at Eilan. “Seriously? You’re mad about this?”

“I should have been informed so I could watch. I would have liked to.”

“Aw. Sorry, kadan. Next time I’ll bring you with, okay?”

“You’d better.”

“Is this really what it’s like when you dream?” Varric asked after a while. “How do you people ever sleep?” When no one answered, he added: “Remember last time we ended up in the Fade, Hawke?”

Hawke shrugged. “How could I forget? My closest friends showed such loyalty in the face of the demon’s temptations.”

“Well, we got better. Sort of.”

“No demon has anything I want,” Bull said, pitching his voice low so only Eilan would hear him.

*

Eventually, they found a stone staircase and Eilan headed up first, Stroud and Hawke close behind him. At the top was the Divine. Or something that looked like her. She was wearing her red, white, and golden robes of the Chantry. And it seemed like she’s been waiting for them.

She greeted them, patiently allowing for questions and confusion. She offered no real explanation, but she wanted to serve as a guide. Eilan saw no reason to argue with her. If she turned on them or proved to be something else, they could deal with her then. 

“Really?” Hawke asked. “How hard is it to answer one question? I’m human and you are…”

“I am here to help you.”

The section of the Fade they had arrived in was inhabited by the Nightmare demon Erimond had been trying to summon to the fortress. The very same giant, bloated thing they’d each seen parts of. It lurked in darkness, growing fat off of the fear and terror Corypheus was unleashing upon the world. The desperation and the Calling that had made such a mess of the Grey Wardens was tied to it as well. It turned out the demon had taken a part of Eilan as well, keeping it here in the Fade.

As the Divine explained, green spirits appeared. Each of them holding a piece of what had happened at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Each one needed to be defeated for it was only with all of his memories that Eilan stood any chance of confronting the Nightmare.

“Well, shit,” Eilan muttered before doing as the Divine suggested.

They defeated the demons and he recovered memories one by one using his anchor.

“Bring forth the sacrifice.” Corpyheus.

“Is something the matter?” Eilan’s own voice. His tone was… Well, it made Eilan flinch. His voice was flat and dull. Decidedly uninterested if vaguely curious.

“Run while you can! Warn them!” The Divine.

The last memory fragment forced the memory back.

The Divine was bound, held aloft by red, angry magic. And she was being kept there by Grey Warden mages. All around them were chantry banners. Seeing all of the sunbursts made Eilan feel more and more uneasy. He didn’t know if the symbol would ever mean anything good to him again.

Corypheus advanced towards her, the orbs in his clawed, gnarled hands. It began to glow green as he held it up to the Divine. The shimmering magic intensified.

“Someone help me!”

“Is something the matter?” Eilan saw himself opening the door, tilting his head thoughtfully as he took the scene in. Vague concern caused his brow to furrow slightly.

Magister and Divine turned to look at him. And in that moment of distraction, the Divine kicked the orb from the monster’s hand. It rolled until it hit Eilan’s boot. He knelt down, picking it up to inspect it.

Pain and glowing magic. The brand on his forehead hurting as it cracked and sizzled, burned off by the green light. And his hand was on fire too. Everything felt… Everything felt like something. And it was as painful and blinding as his throbbing hand. He bit back on a scream, falling to his knees.

Corypheus charged at him, but the orb flared up, magic knocking the ancient darkspawn back. And everything went white.

He came to, back pressed against a stone and blinking as Hawke helped him upright. Eilan quickly pulled away, trying to make sure nothing about the memory had changed him. 

He hesitated, swallowing as he felt his forehead, but the brand was still gone. He looked down. The mark was still on his hand. When he looked at Bull, he still felt plenty of emotions, all of them as strong as ever as they warred for his attention. Really though, Eilan just wanted to feel safe. He longed to just curl up in Bull’s arms and forget all about this saving the world business. Obviously that wouldn’t happen for quite some time. There were other memories to find.

All in all, he wasn’t surprised that the anchor was not the work of Andraste, but the side effect of Corypheus’ attempt to access the Black City. Eilan supposed, however, that this revelation ought to have been disappointing. He imagined it would have been for another sort of Inquisitor or mage. But mostly he felt guilty for being so relieved that the orb had given him a second chance to be himself. Even understanding the terrible cost of his own restoration couldn’t take away from his appreciation for the accidental blessing he’d received.

The Divine returned to them, pointing out that there was still quite a bit left to do. They could not escape the Nightmare until they had made their way through its lair and found the rest of what it had stolen from Eilan.

By now, the Nightmare was aware of their presence which made everything a bit more interesting. So saying, the Divine left to prepare the way.

“Something troubles you, Hawke?” Stroud asked.

"I wonder if you might be concerned about the Grey Wardens holding the Divine in that vision. Their actions led to her death."

"I assumed he had taken their minds, as you have seen him do before. Come. We can argue after we escape this dark place."

“Oh, I intend to.”

The others moved on ahead. Varric and Dorian were trying to decide whether the Divine was herself or a spirit. It was difficult to tell, but maybe she was sort of something in-between, the way Cole was. Blackwall was just eager to be done with the Nightmare, which was a fair point. 

And Bull was wondering, for the umpteenth time, just why it was always demons and talking or some combination of the two.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now for Adamant and the Fade. 
> 
> Thank you to Tigercule for the beta! I meant to get this up earlier, but it's been a crazy and hectic day. The good news is I've been writing quite a bit and the next chapter has already been beta'd. So the conclusion of Here Lies the Abyss will take place on Thursday.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion to Here Lies the Abyss. With slight variations and cameos.

*

They fought through swarms of demons, past a graveyard of everyone’s deepest fears, and onwards in spite of Corypheus and the Nightmare that kept trying to cause them to despair or hesitate.

"Ah, we have a visitor,” a gloating voice called out when they ventured further in. “Some silly little boy comes to steal the fear I kindly lifted from his shoulders. You should leave it lie, happy accident. You should leave it be.”

“No thank you.”

“A polite guest. How lovely. I can take your fear. I can take all of those delicious emotions you bring with you. And I can keep them from you if I so choose. There’s more than one kind of seal. More than one kind of brand. All of those things you feel... Wouldn’t it be wonderful if they went away again?"

Eilan gritted his teeth, clenching his hands into fists.

"Nothing here will help you. Not your childish resolve. Not your foolish friends. Not your ridiculous pet.” 

“Is he talking about me?” Bull asked irritably. “Just what I need.”

The voice continued as if the Qunari hadn’t interrupted. “Not even the return of the pain owed to you will make you stronger. The only one who grows strong in this place is me. Ah, but you are a guest here in my home. So by all means, let me return what you have forgotten."

Eilan startled, closing his eyes briefly when Bull touched his shoulder. “Sorry. I… I even knew it would be you this time and...”

“It’s all right. You hanging in there?”

“I really would like to just go home now.”

Bull tousled Eilan’s hair, cupping his cheek briefly. “Yeah. Same here.”

As they continued, the Nightmare spoke to them all. Sneering, cackling, and calling out taunts that ranged from casually unkind to maliciously cruel. Varric and Hawke seemed to get the worst of it, but they handled it well.

Bull spent the entire time grumbling, eventually demanding to know: “Why do disembodied voices never shut the fuck up?” 

They also collected the fears of other dreamers as they sought out the Divine. Eilan wasn’t eager to linger but he wasn’t keen on hurrying towards the next set of memories either. Even recalling and vaguely experiencing the way it felt to be Tranquil frightened him.

“And of course there have to be giant spiders,” Hawke muttered as they continued.

“Spiders?” Bull asked, frowning. “Where?”

“That’s not what I saw,” Blackwall insisted.

“Nor I,” Stroud said.

“I suspect the demons look different to each of us,” Dorian explained. “Personalized little terrors.”

“Wonderful,” Varric muttered.

*

There were spiders in the next set of memories as well. They were crawling up rocks towards Eilan and the Divine. She was at the top of the peak waiting for him He was making his way to her, struggling to see past tears and biting back on sobs. 

The brand had just been removed, and anything would have been too much to contend with. The Fade was dangerous at the best of times, but in those moments he’d been particularly vulnerable. He moved as best he could, nearly overwhelmed by a whirlwind of conflicting emotions that threaten to paralyze him, or worse, make him lose his balance and fall. His magic was just there, burning inside but out of reach. He couldn’t make it work well enough to create even a simple trap or means to delay the demons hot on his trail.

“This is the Breach in Haven,” Eilan realized. “That’s how we… How I escaped.”

Somehow his past self made it to where the Divine was waiting.

“Keep running!” he had yelled, but as they reach the green rift, she stumbled. The demons were screeching and hissing and clicking behind them.

“Go,” she said. And she was pulled back away from him as if by a huge, unseen hand.

The spiders skittered closer and he stumbled through the rift. Eilan all but tripped out of the Fade, sinking to his knees and then to the ground.

After a moment of silence, Eilan turned to the Divine. “It was you,” he said sadly. “They thought it was Andraste behind me, but it was you. And then you… She died.”

The Divine eyed him from where she stood, surrounded by red felandaris. She closed her eyes before she said yes. She was a spirit. “I’m sorry if I disappoint you.” The Divine’s form dissolved into dazzling yellow light and her true form was revealed.

“She helped us,” Eilan said firmly as the others began what seemed like another debate on whether or not they should trust her. “She’s still helping us. We must get out of the Fade.”

He couldn’t let the real Divine’s sacrifice on his behalf be in vain, and there was a great deal of work to do. Whatever he took from the Fade this time would not change him. The first trip in and out had altered him enough.

“Thank you,” he said to the spirit. “Whatever you are.”

“What we do know,” Hawke added, “is that the mortal Divine perished at the temple, thanks to the Grey Wardens."

Stroud sighed. "As I have already said, the Grey Wardens are responsible for that crime were under the control of Corypheus. We can discuss this further once we return to Adamant."

"Assuming that the Wardens and their demon army didn't destroy the Inquisition while we were gone.”

“How dare you judge us? You tore Kirkwall apart and started the mage rebellion!”

“To protect innocent mages, not mad men drunk on blood magic!”

Hawke scowled. "But you'd ignore that, because you can't imagine a world without the Wardens... even if that's what we need!"

“What are you saying?” Blackwall asked. “You want to get rid of the Wardens? Everyone makes mistakes. They would’ve died to save us.”

“Don’t know that we can afford to pass judgement on the only folks who can stop blights,” Bull pointed out.

“Yes, and what if Corypheus conjures up another blight?” Dorian asked. “We’re going to need the Wardens then.”

Varric shrugged when Eilan glanced at him. "I don't know what to tell you. There are a few good ones, but an awful lot of the Wardens I've known went crazy. Caused all sorts of ugly shit."

“Yes, but there have been a few good ones and we all owe our lives to the ones who have saved us blight after blight,” Eilan pointed out, looking at Hawke and Stroud. “Every hero Thedas ever had and ever will have has acted to save the world. A world full of flawed, bad people, and they did it for the sake of the few good ones. Some of whom they never lived to see. Some of whom are standing here now arguing. So if the rest of you don’t mind taking a break from parceling out blame, I would like to finish off the giant fear demon that is keeping us here.”

Both of them had strange looks on their faces. Eilan wasn’t sure what to make of that. He hadn’t made that profound a speech, surely.

“Inquisitor…” Hawke began.

“What?”

“You might want to look around,” Varric said grimly. 

More giant spiders had descended.

“The Nightmare has found us,” the spirit of the Divine said. Then she disappeared.

Stroud and Hawke joined him. As did the others. They fought the spiders and then further in past more and more demons. On and on until… there it was.

“It still looks like a spider,” Eilan managed, staring up at the the largest spider demon he’d ever seen. “Sort of.”

The fear demon was the color of flesh with hundreds of eyes, and its fangs were as large as the other demon in front of it. Its legs skittered around them as it opened all of its mouths to screech.

The other demon, clearly a powerful minion, had human and spider features, but also something completely other. It seemed human for the most part, but extra black legs were coming out of its spine. It had no eyes but its head tilted towards them as the giant spider behind it hissed.

Fear and despair radiated off of them in waves, pushing Eilan back and almost to the ground. Bull caught his elbow as he stumbled.

“Holy shit,” the Qunari mumbled. “This is officially the worst day ever.”

The large demon disappeared and they were left to fight off the smaller aspect of the Nightmare. Countless lesser demons spawned around them as the fight continued. All of the attacks were vicious and lightning fast and the spider demon taunted them the entire time.

Once the lesser demon was defeated, blood poured down in a steady stream from the larger spider demon that hovering somewhere overheard.

In the distance, the green rift waited to take them back to Adamant Fortress. Varric, Bull, Dorian and Blackwall ran ahead to it. But as Eilan, Hawke, and Stroud moved to join them, the Nightmare lowered itself back down and in front of them.

"We need to clear a path," Stroud said.

"Go," Hawke ordered. "I'll cover you."

"No. You were right. The Grey Wardens caused this. A Warden must--"

"A Warden must help them rebuild! That's your job! Corypheus is mine."

Eilan took a deep breath, staring at his anchor and focusing on summoning up a sword. Not a blue spirit one but a green one using the rift magic the orb had bestowed upon him. This one had to be larger than the ones before, capable of piercing the dense hide of the spider in front of them.

“Go!” he yelled to the others. “Through the rift. Now.” 

Slowly and then quickly a sword appeared in the air in front of him. He concentrated, breaking the magic blade into two then three then seven parts. He raised his marked hand and sent the swords at the monster.

Hawke threw up a barrier around all three of them. “I said I would stay, damn you!”

“There is no need for you to remain here,” Stroud agreed. “I am willing--”

“I answer only to myself,” Eilan growled out. “And I decided I can’t leave either one of you here when you’re finally getting along.”

The spider demon screeched again as it was stabbed, lashing out with its long legs. They were separated by them. Stroud and Hawke were flung to one side and Eilan was swept to the other.

Eilan clawed at the ground, throwing a Winter spell at the spider as he worked on building up another sword. He couldn’t see the others, but he could hear them fighting. He could see Hawke’s spirit and force attacks through the green mist around them.

The next set of swords went through the spider’s mouth and some of its eyes. Blood poured from the wounds but it kept attacking

A clawed leg pierced Eilan shoulder as other legs stomped at the ground. He fell back, struggling to his feet. He pulled out a lyrium potion, but a leg knocked it from his grip. He stumbled again, pulling up a barrier that seemed to give out the second it went around him.

“Get to the rift!” he yelled out. “If you can, just go! Now!”

Another clawed leg jabbed at his side. He let himself fall to the ground, grabbing at the fallen lyrium potion. He downed it swiftly, rolling out of the way of more legs as he worked on more swords. His last set, more than likely given the rate at which he was bleeding out.

Well, he thought, smiling to himself, this is what he got for trying to resolve conflicts. At least if this was the end, he’d go out as himself. And maybe the others would make it back to Adamant.

He flung out the green spirit swords and dropped to his knees. Closing his eyes, he wished he could just see Bull and Cullen again. Bull who already hated demons enough without additional incentives. And Eilan couldn’t feeling like he was failing everyone, especially Cullen who would, in turn, believe he’d failed Eilan altogether.

The spider lunged at him, only to let out a piercing scream.

Several things thudded above his head and around him. The sound was dull, almost muffled.

Eilan opened his eyes, blinking at the barrier around him. As the spider clawed at it, waves of blue light rolled off of the barrier, burning into the demon’s skin.

An elven woman came out of the mist, wearing armor that was color of green leaves. Her hair was short and red under her helmet. She drove a glowing broadsword into the demon’s legs, slicing away two of them in one stroke. Along her back was a staff, but she wasn’t using it.

And suddenly everything seemed to be blurry. Or sideways. Or both.

A hooded man wearing Grey Warden armor, grabbed Eilan’s arm, tugging him to his feet. “Let’s get you healed. She can’t kill it alone. But she’ll try.”

Eilan squinted. The man’s face was hard to make out mostly because Eilan was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. Once he felt a bit more restored, he noticed the man’s eyes were glowing blue and his skin was cracked in places.

The Warden rolled his eyes, the blue glow fading away. He was tall and blonde. He had a small beard and a good deal of stubble. A rather large nose, but a very handsome face. “Yes, yes, I’m lovely, aren’t I? Feeling any better?”

“Yes, but---” He blinked again as the other mage lightly touched his chest. Eilan felt suddenly… heavier. Sturdier. “What’s this?”

“It’s rock armor. Go help. I’ve got your back, Inquisitor.”

The Warden shoved him forward. Hawke and Stroud were in bad shape but they were still standing. And they were still fighting.

Eilan moved to them uncertainly before he felt a sudden surge of energy and all but ran to where they were. He sent out a Mark of the Rift, letting it open up on top of the spider demon’s back. Bolts of lightning rained down around the newly opened rift, swirling and stabbing at the spider’s eyes.

The elf hacked away at more legs. Stroud helped her as best he could. Hawke focused on protecting them and aiming fireballs at the spider’s gaping maw.

It was exhausting work, and when it ended, Eilan felt like he’d run out of magic for the rest of the month. Possibly for the rest of his days. He slumped over again slightly and then he fell the rest of the way. He tried to sit up and then gave up. His skin felt sweaty and his hands were clammy.

“Oh dear. Someone’s poisoned,” the male Warden said, sounding amused. “Poor thing.”

“And someone shouldn’t be here,” Hawke added.

Eilan closed his eyes, biting his lip to keep from whimpering when the Warden picked him up. 

“Yes, well, there is nowhere I’m meant to be anymore. So. Hello, Hawke. Stroud.”

“Anders,” Hawke all but snarled out. “What are you doing here? And where is she going? Is she leaving?”

“She most likely is. She’s not a woman of many words.”

“You had better give me some then.”

“Can that wait? He actually is poisoned.”

“Am I going to die?” Eilan asked faintly, clutching at the weave of the Grey Warden’s armor. “Please. I really don’t want to die listening to people argue.”

“You are not dying. Here.” Anders set him down on a smooth rock surface nearby. “Now. Do you have any potions left?”

“Satchel.”

“All right. Let’s see if you… Oh good. Antivenom.” He cupped Eilan’s chin, holding a bottle to his lips. “Drink this.”

Eilan did so, shuddering from the taste.

“Anders--”

“This isn’t the time, Hawke.”

“It never is.”

“No,” Anders admitted, a faint trace of sadness coloring his tone. “I suppose it never is. I suggest you take the Inquisitor out of the Fade. He’ll recover once he’s away from here.”

“You’ll follow…”

“No. I’m off after Surana. We were… in the neighborhood, so to speak. More I cannot say.”

“I wanted to talk to you,” Eilan managed, grabbing at the Warden-- at Anders’ arm as the healer got to his feet. “I need to talk to you.”

“Oh, we will chat, I expect. Not today though.” Anders gently pulled his hand away, looking vaguely in Hawke’s direction. His expression was a sort of blankness one had to work hard to cultivate and maintain. “Marion… I...”

“Just go, Anders. Go. Please.”

“Right.”

“Wait,” Eilan said, getting shakily to his feet. “Thank you.”

Anders glanced back at him. His expression was still impossible to read. “No need. It was my pleasure.”

“There is a need,” Eilan insisted. “Can you also thank… That is, would you thank… Was that her?”

“She was and is the Hero of Ferelden, yes.”

“Can you thank her for me? Please?”

Anders smiled thinly. “Of course. Get some rest, Inquisitor.” Then he headed for another blue tear a short distance away. The magic faded, the blue doorway fading from sight.

“I guess we ought to go then,” Hawke murmured, hauling Eilan up and putting his arm around her shoulder. “Seems incredibly anticlimactic now though.”

“It does and it doesn’t,” Stroud said. He’d been watching them without commenting. He didn’t seem displeased about Anders’ arrival or departure. Maybe he wasn’t even that surprised.

*

Exiting the rift, Eilan gently shrugged Hawke off and waited for the others to step through. He followed them, anchor glowing in his hand and sealing the rift the second he was on the other side of it. The last of the demons sizzled green and faded away to the sound of loud cheers.

The Divine had been right. With the Nightmare over with, the Grey Wardens were seemingly back to normal and the demon army would be impossible to maintain.

“As far as they’re all concerned, the Inquisitor broke the spell and saved everyone with the blessing of the Maker.”

Eilan sighed heavily. “But I only did some of that. The Hero and A--”

Hawke shook her head. “Keep the credit for yourself. You thanked them, and if you explain what they did, people will be terrified. They believe in you. They trust you. None of this is even possible without you, so let them have their story.”

Eilan hesitated then nodded. There was no sense telling anyone what had really happened in the Fade or at the Conclave. It was obviously no secret that he would be sharing the truth with his advisors and inner circle. Everyone else seemed, as Varric had pointed out back in Haven, to need to believe in miracles and a hero who could perform them. Besides, surely they were all done giving rise to more fear demons or providing whatever else Corypheus had in his arsenal with anything to feed upon.

Scouts and soldiers approached them with news. The archdemon had flown away the second they stepped out of the Fade. Erimond was still alive and Cullen, bless him, had felt that Eilan would want to deal with the magister himself.

Several Wardens approached after that, saying that their group was more than willing to make up for Clarel’s mistakes.

Stroud snorted. “We all had better be.”

“Well, I’m sure you can help them, Warden-Commander Stroud. Or, rather, you can provide them with an example of an exemplary Grey Warden. And I would ask that you provide the Inquisition with your aid.”

“That’s quite a promotion,” Hawke said.

“Warden-Commander?” Stroud asked, blinking owlishly.

“Who else is qualified? I don’t think anyone else with a sufficient rank is left.” More importantly, Eilan could trust Stroud. The man had more than proven himself. 

Stroud nodded, accepting that much as a given. Eilan supposed Wardens had to considering their many and varied occupational hazards. “And you would welcome our help, Inquisitor?”

“Do you believe the Wardens can still help?”

“I do, Inquisitor.”

Eilan nodded. “Then I believe your service to the Inquisition would be invaluable, and we can provide you with the support you need. You’re all still vulnerable to Corypheus, and possibly his Venatori, but there are plenty of demons that need killing.”

“Still?” Bull asked. He was standing with the others a short distance away. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

“Thank you, your worship,” Stroud said with a small but formal bow. “We will not fail you.”

Eilan smiled. “I know.”

Stroud smiled back, then moved away with the scouts and soldiers. It was well past time to tend to those under his newly-appointed command.

“The Wardens at Weissupt should be informed of what’s happened,” Hawke mused.

“And they will be,” Eilan agreed.

“I can go,” she offered. “It’s best they don’t get caught off-guard.”

Eilan shook his head. There was no telling what was going on with the Wardens in the Anderfels. He had no desire to send Hawke there or Stroud. Not without having a better sense of that particular situation. He was done walking himself or others into traps, obvious or otherwise. “Informed with a letter.” 

“I see. Well then… What am I to do then?” she asked with a frown. “I rather expected to have more to do.”

Offering up a reassuring smile, Eilan shrugged. “Oh, I am sure more work can be found or arranged. Yours is a particular skill set that’s always in high-demand.”

Hawke laughed. “Said the pot to the kettle. Very well. Would your Inquisition welcome my aid?”

“Of course.”

“All right. I ought to retrieve my… Fenris… first before I do anything else. A letter won’t be good enough. He’s likely to kill me as it is. Then I’ll come back and see what needs doing. I wouldn’t want you to start an Exalted March the second my back was turned.”

Eilan smiled. “We could certainly benefit from your aid. Talk to Cullen. You can both be established as agents.”

Hawke nodded, moving away as well. She stopped, turning around and eyeing Eilan thoughtfully. “Take care of Varric for me then. For now.”

Eilan nodded.

Other Inquisition-related matters kept him busy and at the fortress for the better part of an hour. He was aware of the others watching him nearly the entire time. Towards the end of the hour, Varric, Blackwall, and Dorian left. Bull did not move from the pillar he was leaning against. He seemed to be keeping his eye trained on Eilan and only Eilan.

Eventually, the mage walked over to Bull, smiling wearily. “Hello.”

“I’m pretty pissed at you,” the Qunari said, sounding fond if somewhat exasperated. “I said no noble shit.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Not half as sorry as you’re gonna be.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Pretty sure Dorian’s telling Cullen as we speak. Or Blackwall is. Or Varric. Or all three of 'em. Looking forward to Cassandra being informed. Maybe she’ll beat you up.”

Eilan sighed, biting back a yawn. “Traitors,” he mumbled. “Well, we’re leaving in the morning for Skyhold. Camp’s been set up since this fortress is still a mess. Can we go there?”

“Depends. Can you make it there?”

“If you let me lean on you? I’m healing and I’m fine now, but I got poisoned and stabbed--”

“Don’t,” Bull insisted, tugging Eilan along. “Just… You’re all right now?”

Eilan glanced up. “I’m all right. It’s all right, Bull.”

They rounded a corner and Bull grabbed him, pulling him up and into his arms. And then the Qunari was kissing him, gently but insistently.

Eilan returned the kiss, stroking the Qunari’s nose and then his horns. “It’s all right, love, really.”

“Don’t fucking ever do that again.”

“I’d really rather not. If it happens again--”

“Don’t think I’m listening to you at all. I’m not running on ahead like some kind of asshole. I’m not doing a damn thing if you’re on the other side of a demon or dragon or portal. I’m coming back and dragging you off with me.”

Eilan smiled, kissing Bull’s cheek. “Whatever you need to do.”

“You got that right.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Eh, I don’t need you to be sorry about being a big damn hero.”

“Not that. I’m sorry about making you go with. And about all of the demons and everything.”

“I’d be less happy if I hadn’t gone with.”

“Yeah?”

“Obviously yeah. I’d rather be with you fighting demons than not. That’s why I’m so pissed about how it all ended.”

“All that really matters is we’re both safe and sound. And together.”

“I guess. Anyway, I don’t accept your apology because this isn’t your doing. I know exactly who to blame and I can’t wait to punch him in his ugly-ass face.”

“Me neither. And we’ll do that together.”

Bull kissed Eilan’s forehead, pulling him closer. “I know.”

*

Eilan managed the walk back to camp. Then he moved on ahead into his tent when Bull stopped to talk to everyone else. He yawned, blinking as Cullen hugged him. “Hello.”

“Hello.” Cullen half-dragged, half-carried him to one of the two cots that had been set up.Once there, the Commander helped Eilan sit on the edge of the closest one before kneeling in front of him to get the mage’s boots off. 

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.”

"All right." Eilan fell back against the thin fabric making up the cot, curling up before letting Cullen tug off his socks once he was done with unlacing his boots. He had no objections to the rest of what Cullen did either. Although Eilan did groan in protest when he had to change into something less bloody and more suitable for sleeping in. But only because he didn’t want to help. 

“Oh,” he said when he was in a warm robe and under a soft, fennec fur blanket. “How did everything go on your end?”

“I would rather hear about your misadventures.”

“Oh, you know, just… the usual spider demon infestation.”

“I would prefer there not be a spider demon infestation, usual or otherwise. What else happened?”

“I… um… Spider-related injuries?”

“Such as?”

“Stabbed with fangs. Poisoned.”

“...I really hate letting you out of my sight. I’ve said that before, yes?”

“Yes. I’m all healed though.”

Cullen sighed, managing a small, concerned smile. “Yes, I saw that.”

Eilan smiled back reassuringly. “As days go, this one was fairly terrible. But we won. And I remember most of the Conclave. The end of it, I mean. The moments before that… I’m guessing outside of a discussion with Samson, none of it left much of an impression. I think it’s because I’m not… It’s hard for me to think too much about what I was like before.”

“Nor should you. But I’d like to hear about what you’ve remembered,” Cullen said, kissing Eilan before moving away. He needed to change out of his armor too.

Eilan yawned, curling up in his cot. While Cullen stripped, he explained what he’d been shown. And everything else. He was too tired to try to gauge Cullen’s reactions to any of it, but Eilan was more than willing to watch Cullen undress.

“So. Surana. And Anders,” Cullen said, sitting on the cot next to Eilan’s once he was done. He leaned down, kissing Eilan several times over. Then he sat back up again, carding his fingers through Eilan’s hair.

“I only really spoke to him. She didn’t say anything. We couldn’t have killed the demon without her, but she left as soon as it was dead.”

Cullen smiled wistfully. “That sounds like her.”

Bull wandered in with a bedroll and a pile of blankets. “Hey, so… I’m sleeping in here tonight.”

Cullen frowned before forcing a rather neutral expression. “Right.”

“Cullen shouldn’t have to—”

The Qunari snorted, setting up his bed. He put half of the blankets on Cullen’s cot and then wrapped the rest around Eilan before kissing him. “I’m not saying you have to leave, Cullen. Just that I’m not either.”

Cullen breathed out a sigh of relief. He sat down on the end of his cot, nodding. “That suits me.”

Eilan brushed his fingers over Cullen’s arm. “I wish we were back at Skyhold then. With a proper bed.”

“We could try it again once we’re back.”

“All right.” Eilan glanced over at Bull. “What about blankets for you?”

Bull rolled his eye. “I’ll be fine.”

“Does any part of you ever get cold?” Eilan asked. “Surely some parts of you get cold.”

“My horns sometimes.” He ran a hand through Eilan’s hair. “Want me to braid this for you?”

“Is it a mess?”

“A little.”

“Only if I don’t have to move. Or help in any way.”

“You don’t.”

Cullen watched Bull plait Eilan’s hair. He smiled when Eilan tangled their fingers together so the Commander wouldn’t be left out. “I’m glad to see you’re unharmed, Bull.”

“Yeah, me too. Not exactly surprising though. Eilan takes good care of us. There. All done,” Bull said, ruffling Eilan’s hair before yawning. “Still good, boss?”

Eilan nodded, closing his eyes. “Tired though.”

“Pass on out then.”

“I’ll try.”

Bull sighed, huffing in amused exasperation. “You want a story, huh?”

“He makes you tell him stories too?” Cullen asked, sounding amused.

“I think he just likes hearing people talk.”

“ _He_ is still here,” Eilan pointed out.

“Yes, he is,” Cullen agreed, kissing the back of Eilan’s hand.

“Yes. And he would very much like a story, please and thank you.”

Bull took Eilan’s other hand in his. “All right. Hm.”

“Can he cheat and read you one of Varric’s books?” Cullen asked, sounding sheepish. “I…Might have...borrowed some from Cassandra.”

“That works for me,” Eilan said, sighing contentedly. He really liked both of them being there. He liked knowing that if he passed out, they would be there and they could still talk to each other. And they’d hold onto him. Or he’d hold onto them. Or both. Which reminded him of something so he opened his eyes. “I want to see you two spar.”

Cullen chuckled. “Right now?”

“No but soon. And shirtless if it’s a warm day. Or maybe even if it’s not.”

“Maker but you’re picky.”

Eilan smiled.

“Uh. When do I wear a shirt?” Bull asked.

“You don’t and you shouldn’t. But Cullen has to because armor is important.”

“Unless I’m sparring with Bull for your amusement?” Cullen asked.

Eilan smiled, keeping his eyes closed. “Not my amusement. Because it would be… um…”

“Hot,” Bull supplied.

“Yes. That. Very much that and… As an Inquisitor, I feel like that’s really important to see how um...very good you both are at fighting. So please?”

Cullen laughed. “Anything you want, sweetheart.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end of Here Lies the Abyss doesn't work at all for me in several ways so I changed it and I think it turned out well. Let me know what you think! 
> 
> I also couldn't resist adding Surana. And Anders. Because I think Anders' interactions with a mage Inquisitor, particularly one who was Tranquil is interesting. So Anders'll be back for sure. 
> 
> Thanks again to Tigercule for the beta! The next update should be either this weekend or Monday depending on how much writing I get done today and tomorrow.


	28. Chapter 28

*

There was a great deal that could be done in Orlais, but Eilan felt it prudent to return to Skyhold and find work for the Grey Wardens first. And there was, of course, always plenty of operations and tasks that needed to be done. After seeing to all of his companions and getting several assignments from them as well as his advisors, Eilan went to Cullen for an update on the Samson situation. Based on journals and papers found in Sahrnia, it had also become clear that Maddox was working with him. Eilan couldn’t help being curious about that. Was that Maddox was that desperate for a sense of purpose? Had the men been friends before or even after the Rite?

“I know it matters to some degree but in a way it doesn’t matter at all,” Cullen said. “Regardless of how or why, Samson took him in.”

“If he’s an unwilling or reluctant accomplice, maybe we could help him though. An inside man among Samson’s forces could be invaluable.”

“If we could convince him,” Cullen agreed. “I suppose it’s worth a try, seeing as Maddox built Samson’s armor and maintains it for him. He would have needed rare and expensive supplies-- supplies we can track. I can have our men kick down some doors. Samson’s armor might lead us straight to his stronghold and… What are you staring at?”

Eilan smiled. “I like when you get like this. All fired up and authoritative.”

Cullen ducked his head. “My thanks. I’ll let you know when there’s something worth reporting.”

“All right,” Eilan said, taking Cullen’s hand in his. “So. Are you free then? I was hoping we could spend some time together this afternoon.”

“What’s wrong with this evening?”

“Varric’s invited everyone to play Wicked Grace.”

“Oh. That.”

“Don’t you want to go?”

“Sort of. Only I find card games… They make me rather competitive and then I lose which makes me rather cross.”

“I think everyone will lose if Solas joins us. And it’ll be nice to spend time with everyone without having to kill a swarm of demons or crazy people.”

Cullen smiled. “If you’re going, I suppose I ought to make an appearance.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Cullen nodded, frowning slightly.

“What’s wrong?”

“I keep trying not to think about it but… I lived among Tranquil most all my life and never understood them. I’m not sure I ever really tried and if you had remained Tranquil…”

Eilan shook his head. “Past regrets are--”

“This is more than regret. I love you so much. The thought of losing you to anything bothers me, but the idea that it might have been to my own stupidity troubles me most of all. I don’t know how to accept that if you had stayed Tranquil, I never would have gotten to know you.”

“That doesn’t matter. What we have now is better than it would have been if you’d known me when I was Tranquil.”

“I know that.”

“No, you don’t, but I can explain it to you,” Eilan said firmly. “If I’d remained Tranquil, Cullen, we wouldn’t have what we have now. Not even a fraction of it. Oh, I might have smiled at you so you wouldn’t be afraid of me. I might have let you hold my hand if I thought it would make you like me. I might have let you do more because then you would protect me or help me. Because others would have told me how important and nice it is if someone cares about you. And I would have been curious. But I wouldn’t have felt the way I do right now. And what good would I have been to you, really?”

“I can’t accept that. Meeting you and being with you are two of the best things that have ever happened to me.”

“Then that’s what’s important,” Eilan said, kissing Cullen’s lips. “That’s what matters.”

“Fair enough,” Cullen said, pulling Eilan into his arms. “I think I get so caught up on what ifs because the thought of really losing you is too hard to dwell on.”

“Losing me?”

“You could have died in the Fade. You have saved everyone else and died there. Alone. I might have never seen you again. But as I said… That’s not something that I can bear to focus on.”

Eilan sighed heavily. “I couldn’t choose. Mark or not, I couldn’t leave one of them there to die for me.”

“I see.”

“I tried so hard not to think about you or Bull. But I… In the end, I thought… I thought the spider would get me. And I thought how horrible it would be for you. You’d blame yourself forever somehow and you’d never be happy again and--”

“I understand.” Cullen kissed his forehead. “Here and now, with you in my arms, that seems incredibly melodramatic. But it also does sound like something I would do.”

Eilan chuckled, leaning against Cullen. “It does.”

“Maker’s Breath, but I hate that I can’t follow you everywhere you go. You have no idea how difficult you make it for me to do this job. There’s a lot of sitting behind a desk when you’re a Commander. I used to love the paperwork and now so much as looking at it makes me so angry.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be sorry. This is completely your fault.”

Eilan pulled away slightly, smiling at Cullen. “I think I have a thought on how to make it up to you. If you’d like one.”

“You can petition me with suggestions any time you like.”

“Can I show you?”

“Feel free.”

Eilan kissed Cullen’s cheek before moving away from him. “What if your paperwork left your desk,” he said, turning away from Cullen. He pushed at the clutter on Cullen’s desk, shoving a pile of papers to the floor. “And all of the work we have is forgotten for now. And what if we used your desk for more recreational purposes?”

When he turned around, Cullen was already in front of him. Eilan laughed and Cullen kissed him roughly. The Commander pushed him to the desk, letting everything else fall with a resounding crash.

“Oh dear,” Eilan said with a smile. “I’ll have to get you a new paperweight. Or we can. When we’re dragon hunting. We should do that in Emprise du Lion.”

Cullen didn’t say anything, he just nuzzled at Eilan’s neck.

“So you like the idea?” Eilan asked as he moved back a little. He stretched out on the desk, smiling up at Cullen who was all but draped over him. “And do you like this?”

“Yes,” Cullen growled out, biting gently at Eilan’s neck. “Stop talking, sweetheart.”

Eilan groaned quietly as Cullen licked at the mark his teeth had left behind. “Wait. Wait, Cullen.”

Cullen glanced up. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong exactly, but… we haven’t been interrupted for nearly half an hour.”

“A very keen observation, my love.”

“Yes. So we should lock the door, Commander.”

“Excellent call, Inquisitor.” Cullen got to his feet, shedding armor as he went to the door.

Eilan raised an eyebrow when he heard keys jangling and more than one deadbolt sliding into place. “Are you taking me prisoner?”

Cullen chuckled. “Tempting, but no.”

“Then… Do you have more than one lock?”

“I assumed at some point you’d sleep with me here so yes. There’s three altogether. I might have Varric or Sera set up traps. Someone always shows up in the middle of a decidedly marvelous kiss, and I am tired of it.”

Eilan laughed. “I love you, Cullen.”

“And I you. Start losing clothes, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all.”

*

Eilan was terrible at Wicked Grace, but he wasn’t very sad about it. When he ran out of coins and an inclination to continue playing, he simply gave up. The card game had started out competitive and only gotten worse as time had gone by. Giving up also meant curling up in his chair and resting his head against Bull’s arm as the others placed bets.

Vivienne was watching them and sipping what was probably Thedas’ most expensive wine. She’d brought her own from Orlais.

Sera was under the table occasionally poking someone in the knee or laughing merrily at nothing in particular.

Leliana was playing a wistful ballad near the fireplace behind them. She wasn’t really in the mood for a card game. Eilan glanced over to her, checking up on how she seemed to be feeling. She seemed happy if somewhat melancholy. Tired perhaps, but then she’d been on a great deal of operations. 

Cole was watching all of them, taking in their reactions and observing the game. He was happy in a more obvious sort of way and more than likely it was based on the collective mood of the group. And everyone’s current location. He seemed to prefer when they all were in one place.

Solas had joined them for a few hands. He had refused to play himself, but he had patiently explained to rules to Eilan. And he had stayed long enough to help the Inquisitor win one time. Then he took his leave.

Everyone else was intent on gambling away what appeared to be their life savings.

“Quit if you want but no cheating, Inquisitor,” Varric said. “Unless you want to tell me what Bull has over there?”

“One pretty mage and some really kickass cards,” Bull pointed out. “Place your bet already.”

“Or bow out. I would recommend it,” Josephine said with a smile.

“Or keep playing,” Blackwall insisted. “I’m quite enjoying watching you trounce the Commander, Josie.”

Cullen snorted. “She isn’t trouncing me. Just winning.”

Josephine was winning by a significant margin. She was such a kind and good-natured person that it was really delightful to see her ruthless side. Eilan still wasn’t sure what she needed his help for once they went back to Orlais, but he was more than willing to provide her with it. He also wondered if there was some way to get her to notice how fond Blackwall was of her, but he wasn’t sure match-making was something he’d be any good at.

Cullen was in second place --if there was such a thing as second place when playing a card game. Varric wasn’t too far behind him in terms of winnings as far as Eilan could tell. And it wasn’t too long before everyone was out except for Varric, Cullen and Josephine.

“That’s good enough,” Varric decided, leaning back in his chair.

“One more game,” Cullen insisted.

“Of course,” Josephine cheerfully agreed.

“Aren’t you out of things to bet, Curly? Although if you’re betting the Inquisitor, I’m going back in.”

Blackwall chuckled. “And what would you do with the Inquisitor, Varric?”

“Eh, let him go after he cleaned my room. I’d be going back in to look out for him.”

“How noble of you.”

“Exactly. Someone has to save him from having to marry Ruffles when Curly gambles him away.”

Josephine laughed. “I wouldn’t make the Inquisitor marry me. I would probably make him meet with several diplomats and resolve several conflicts through peaceful dialogue between--”

“So you’d bore him to death _or_ until he agreed to marry you in order to escape your political machinations?” Dorian asked. “You’re a very clever woman, Josephine Montilyet.”

Eilan rolled his eyes. “Yes, well, even if Cullen did suggest that? I have a bodyguard and you’re welcome to try fighting him to get to me.”

Bull belched as he got up from the table. “Yeah only don’t do that right now because I want more to drink.”

“You must feel very safe indeed,” Dorian muttered.

Eilan just smiled.

“How about you play for clothes?” Varric offered slyly.

Josephine laughed again. “If you want.”

Cullen frowned thoughtfully. “We could--”

“You definitely should,” Dorian said. “In fact, please feel free to strip now if you like.”

“No,” Eilan insisted. “None of that. No betting on clothes. You’ll be naked in a matter of seconds, Cullen.”

“Not necessarily," Cullen insisted. "I could manage to win. So I’m in. Unless you’re objecting in some sort of official capacity.”

Eilan sighed heavily as everyone looked in his direction. “If you must.”

Bull sat back down. He had two mugs, both of them for himself, and a smaller glass for Eilan. “Let him make a fool of himself, kadan,” he said in a low, amused rumble. “It’ll be fun for the rest of us.”

“Not for me.”

But the game began in spite of, or possibly because of, Eilan’s reservations.

Dorian patted Eilan’s shoulder as the cards were shuffled and dealt. “You’d think you’d enjoy the view.”

“Yes, but not with you and everyone else… It’s just that it’s sort of… Ugh, I don’t want to make a bad pun.”

“Private?” Bull supplied.

“Yes, thank you for that.”

“Look at this way,” Dorian continued. “He’ll learn a valuable lesson. And he’ll do it the hard way if I’m lucky and the Maker is kind.”

“You are without a doubt the worst friend I’ve ever had.”

“And you’re the sweetest. It works out rather well for me.”

“But not for me.”

Dorian smirked. “Darling, you have to learn to relax. It’s all in good fun. We’re all friends here, aren’t we?”

Vivienne sniffed. Eilan glanced up to see she was standing by his chair and leaning against the back of it as she sipped her wine. “We’re all something,” she murmured. But she wasn’t leaving the group. Instead she picked up Eilan’s glass and made a face. “Do not drink this, my dear. You might as well go with a vial of Adder’s Kiss instead. Who gave this to you?”

Bull muttered something under his breath. It sounded like a string of swears in Qunlat.

“What was that?” Vivienne asked in an imperious tone.

Bull cleared his throat. “Uh. I did, ma’am.”

“You are the most uncouth creature I’ve ever met. You have revolting taste in nearly everything save for the Inquisitor.”

“I... can accept that. Ma’am.”

She dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “Here.” She moved away from them and returned to set down a crystal goblet in front of Eilan. “Have some of this, my dear.”

“Thank you.” Eilan felt a bit flustered as she watched him, but he handled the wine the way he’d been told to do so once they arrived at Halamshiral. He swirled the goblet, studying the dark red color of the wine. He sniffed it then sipped and savored it.

It was good wine, he could taste that, but he didn’t understand how wine could elicit an emotional reaction. Apparently in Orlais good wine was supposed to make you cry or long for yesteryear or something. He simply felt that all wine tasted better chilled, which apparently meant he was a heathen.

“Um. There’s… Black-cherry and dark currants. Black figs and dark plums. A hint of chocolate. It’s like an elegant night sky. Each note of fruit is like a profound twilight symphony. The fruit twinkles and um…glistens? It’s very... majestic. The notes sing to one another. They are as bright red jewels of light penetrating the rich darkness. It’s as unforgettable as um…” Eilan trailed off. He’d made the mistake of looking at Bull. The Qunari who was looking at Eilan like the mage had just caught an incurable disease and needed to be put out of his misery. “I don’t know what. I’m sorry, Vivienne.”

“You’re doing better at least. What you lack in verbal dexterity, you make up for with innocent charm.”

Varric grinned over at them from across the table. “What she means is you’re adorable.”

“I am not.”

“You are and you’ll do very well in Orlais. I think tomorrow night we should have a wine tasting. You can do all the tasting and the rest of us can just laugh. It’ll be another great bonding experience.”

“Oh hush, Varric.”

Dorian laughed. “I would advise you to tone it down, however. And I wouldn’t say any of that at Halamshiral were I you.”

“Oh?”

“If you stand there with wide, startled halla-eyes blushing and fumbling with a wine glass? Some Orlesian noble is going to kidnap you and hide you away in one of his many chateaux in order to ravish you for the rest of your days.”

“Also a great idea for a book,” Varric mused.

“Oh.” Eilan took another sip of his wine as he blushed some more.

“Do you need a handkerchief to cope with the fruity darkness of the wine-y night sky?” Sera asked, peering up from under the table.

“I’ll manage.”

“Do any of you mind?” Cullen asked, sounding particularly stern.

Eilan glanced over, blinking. The Commander had already lost a decent portion of his clothing. Josephine was smiling. She hadn’t lost a thing.

“We’re trying to have a serious card game,” Cullen added with a grimace.

“And you’re seriously losing,” Varric pointed out.

Eilan rested his forehead against the table and sighed. 

“A profound twilight symphony of glistening fruit,” Bull said quietly, squeezing the back of Eilan’s neck, which was still about as warm and flushed as his face. “That was... really mortifying, kadan.”

“Try being the one saying it.”

“Yeah. I guess I’m still willing to be seen in public with you.”

“Thanks, dear.” Eilan sighed as Cullen lost another article of clothing. At this point, he was done to his breeches and smalls.

“He looks good without much on. The rest of us don’t get to see it often. Dunno if that makes you feel better or not.”

Eilan considered this. “It doesn’t.”

“Then tell ‘em. He’s yours not theirs.”

Raising his head, Eilan cleared his throat and got to his feet. “Oh dear. Look at that. Two new operations have opened up. Cullen, I would like you commence Operation Do Not Play Wicked Grace With Josephine. Josephine, I would like you to begin Operation Please End This Game Thank You.”

There was a collective groan from the others, particularly, Eilan noted, from Cassandra and Dorian. And Varric. He suspected the Seeker and mage had the same reasons for their disappointment and it all had to do with Cullen still wearing clothes. Varric just enjoyed watching ridiculous things take place, which was certainly more acceptable.

Josephine smiled, the expression both magnanimous and smug. “Of course, Inquisitor.”

The group spread out after that, none of them eager to leave but none of them seeing a reason to remain at the table. Bull and Varric decided on a game of darts, the loser would owe the winner a pint. Not that either of them really needed more to drink.

“I owe you,” Eilan said to Josephine as she walked past him.

“Nonsense. It is disappointing to not get to see...everything… But in a way it is a relief. You were as tolerant as you could be, Inquisitor, but you clearly did not approve of this. I should hate to have upset you over something so juvenile.”

Eilan crossed his arms, watching Cullen who finishing up the process of putting his clothes back on. “And what have you learned?”

“That I’m only ever playing cards against you.”

“Because I’d lose?”

“Well, yes... But also because if I lost somehow,” Cullen said, moving closer to Eilan, all but backing the mage into a corner near the fireplace. “If you got the upper hand, so to speak,” he murmured, “we’d be alone, wouldn’t we? And you wouldn’t make me stop taking my clothes off.”

Eilan blushed, giving Cullen an exasperated look. “You were in the Chantry for how long again?”

Cullen smirked. “I left, remember?”

“Maybe you ought to go back to your tower and think about what you’ve done.”

“Maybe I should just visit your quarters. You can make sure I behave--” There was a loud laugh from behind them. Cullen frowned, glancing over his shoulder at Varric and Bull. They were throwing darts at a rather hideous portrait hanging over the door. “After you make sure Bull behaves. Or doesn’t lose his other eye.”

Eilan smiled. “He might tag along with me.”

“That would be fine. Your rooms are awfully cold.”

*

Waking up all but on top of Bull with Cullen’s arms around him had been really nice. It had left him in a good mood even after they had both departed.

There were operations available for the Chargers. Bull was going on one of the shorter missions mainly to make sure they could handle larger ones on their own. Cullen was working with his officers to make sure they could keep Skyhold in one piece so he could accompany Eilan on any kind of outing.

In order to avoid working on his manners or dancing, Eilan stayed in his room. He read a book for the first time in weeks, and then moved to his piano.

A few minutes into playing, Cole joined him. He usually did. He liked to stare under the lid at the hammers and strings. Eilan always watched him intently, worried the prop keeping the lid would give way and the spirit would get badly hurt.

Over time, Cole’s presence had moved from unsettling to something close to comfortable. Normally the music made them both calm and contented. This particular morning, however, Cole was broadcasting nervous energy.

A melody or two later, Cole moved away from the piano. He hesitated and sat next to Eilan. He wasn’t wearing his hat for once. His eyes were hard to see, but his knuckles were white and his posture was tense.

Eilan finished up what he’d been played, letting his hands fall from the keys. He set one hand on top of the spirit’s. Eilan wished he had Solas’ talents for deciphering the needs of spirits. He felt he understood how to be a good friend, and at the moment, he wanted to be one to Cole. So while it seemed a bit silly, but it also felt right to put a barrier around Cole. The blue magic of the spell curled around Cole like a blanket.

Cole closed his eyes briefly, looking down. “Thank you,” he mumbled.

Eilan squeezed his hand. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to be a demon.”

“You’re nothing like a demon.”

“I am like a demon. And I… I asked Solas to help me. He wouldn’t.”

“What did you ask him for?”

“A binding. He won’t. He’s a mage and he likes demons, but he won’t help.”

Eilan turned on the piano bench, sitting sideways so he could see Cole’s face. “Why do you want Solas to bind you?”

Cole’s pale eyes were watery and slightly desperate. “So I’m safe.”

“There must be other ways to feel safe.”

“This is the best way. If Solas won’t do the ritual to bind me… Will you?”

Eilan flinched. He looked away trying to think of a way to explain why he didn’t think the ritual would work. The first thing that came to mind, of course, was his own Rite, the Chantry’s idea of what would make a mage safe. He glanced at Cole. “What if I wanted someone to make me Tranquil again?”

Cole blinked.

“What if I asked you to do it. Would you?”

“No,” Cole said fiercely, the word coming out like a snarl. “I want you to be the way you are. I wouldn’t let you. I wouldn’t let them. I would kill them.”

“Then you understand why I can’t let someone do this ritual to you.”

“It’s not the same.”

“It’s similar. I like who you are.”

“What about later when I’m not me anymore? Walls around what I want, blocking, bleeding, making me a monster.”

Eilan pulled Cole closer. “I know. Cole, that could happen to anyone of us. Blood magic can do that and so can other things. I felt that way once the brand was gone from my forehead. I felt that way when everyone knelt before me and sang and wanted me to believe what they believed. Everything was raw and wounding. Everything could affect me. Anything could change me.”

The spirit shook his head, a frantic and jerking motion. He was like a horse wearing blinders for the first time and struggling to see. “You were never a monster. You were never like me. Even when they took you from you, you did not shatter. You dimmed. You fractured. You became less for a time, but you mended. Inside you shine. Inside you are perfect and lovely. Inside I am twisted and broken. Inside I am wrong.”

“When we first met--”

“I scared you. I spoke to you. I saw everything in you and all of it was so bright. And I wanted to see more of it, of you, but I said all of the wrong things. I scared you for the longest time.”

“We all say the wrong things,” Eilan assured him. “All of us. I say plenty of them myself, and I was wrong to be scared of you. You’re my friend.”

“Then how can you not help me?”

“I will. Oh, Cole, I will help you,” Eilan promised, tugging Cole into a hug. “Please don’t… Don’t think that I would ever abandon you. I wouldn’t. It’s just that there are other ways, and we will explore them together. We can ask Solas for suggestions. Or Dorian.”

Cole pulled free of the hug as he hauled Eilan to his feet. “Now.”

“All right.”

*

Solas was working on his mural. Or at least he had been. When they found him, his paint-splattered hands were curled around a cup of coffee. Josephine had given him some and he’d decided to be done with tea altogether. “Inquisitor. Cole.”

“Cole’s just explained the situation to me.”

“Has he? Good.”

“Yes. We need to find some middle ground between ‘do nothing’ and ‘use blood magic.’”

“Indeed.”

“I know Dorian feels the library here is useless, but maybe there is something we can use?”

“I recall stories of amulets used by Rivani seers to protect spirits they summoned from rival mages. A spirit wearing an Amulet of the Unbound was immune to blood magic and binding. It should protect Cole as well.”

Eilan was pleased by Solas’ recollection although he wondered why he hadn’t said as much to Cole. Then again, the spirit might have darted off or disappeared if the initial answer had displeased him. And clearly it had. There was a small part of him that doubted the amulet worked, but he was more than willing to be wrong.

“How do we proceed?”

“The resources of the Inquisition could be used to locate such a talisman.”

“Good. They will not take me.” Cole set a hand on Eilan’s shoulder for a fraction of a second. Then he left them.

“He’s so troubled,” Eilan said, sounding as fretful as he felt.

Solas poured out another cup of coffee, handing it to Eilan. “Yes, he is and with good reason. Was the barrier your decision?”

“He seemed… vulnerable.”

“It was a kind of you.”

“It was the least I could do, Solas. How he feels… I know what that’s like. That is how I felt when you helped me.”

“It is much the same and yet it is very different.”

“I forget sometimes that he’s a spirit. At first, there was never a time when I didn’t think of him as something strange and otherworldly. But now that he’s my friend… Is that bad?”

“Only if it prevents him from being as he is, but I believe your desire for a friendship is harmless in of itself. It is only that the world molds and shapes us all. Good or bad, there is no stopping the influence of others.”

“I’ll get the amulet for him then. If that doesn’t work, we’ll find something else.”

“Of course.”

*

Eilan assigned the task of locating a Rivani amulet to Leliana. He didn’t want to add to Cullen’s operations. Not when he wanted to borrow the Commander for a small but extended period of time.

“You don’t have to rush back with him,” his spymaster suggested. “He will protest, of course, but we can manage without him. We can send messages and updates to your camp. Just keep him busy with something more relaxing, if you would. Maker knows he will never take a break when he’s here.”

“Yes, I know.”

“And you will help Josie at some point, I trust?”

“Of course.” Then Vivienne wanted to go somewhere else in Orlais. She wouldn’t give much in the way of details, but it had something to do with the snowy wyvern heart.

Leliana smiled ruefully. “Eventually there is something I should like your help with too.”

“Fair enough.”

“You’re always so very willing. I think nearly everyone here has asked you for one favor or another. And you always agree.”

“I ask a great deal of everyone else. And everyone else does a great deal for me. But there’s no sense keeping score.”

“How do you keep track?”

Eilan smiled. “I tend to assume I owe everyone at least one outstanding favor so whenever we go to a new location, I make some sort of general announcement.”

“Well, whatever you’re doing works for the most part. Disagreements are bound to happen, but none of them have been all that serious.”

“I’d be surprised if everyone got along all the time. And, frankly, I'd be a bit concerned if everyone liked all of the decisions I made.”

“At least the Qunari you have is friendly.”

“Oh?”

“Oh yes. Ours was a terrible grump. The only thing he enjoyed were cookies. Apparently Qunari do not get much in the way of sweets when they are at home.”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

In fact, Eilan headed straight for the Skyhold kitchens when he was done talking with her. Sera was coming up the stairs, a small basket under her arm.

“Hey, you. You have time? It’s not a question, let’s go.”

“I actually… All right.” He supposed while they were going where they were going, he could bring up the importance of Sera not giving Cole a difficult time.

He was a little puzzled though when she lead him into the tavern and up the stairs. Bull gave him a questioning look and Eilan shrugged, waving at him. Then he followed Sera to her room and out a window.

He hesitated, biting back a yelp as she dragged him away from the window ledge. “This is the roof.”

Sera rolled her eyes. “Is it? Brilliant. Sit down. Over here. Come on.”

Eilan sat down before she could shove him down. Or off the roof. He didn’t think that was the plan, but Sera was odd at times.

She set down the basket before sitting next to him. She pulled out two large cookies and handed him one. “Eat up.”

“Um. All right.” He sniffed, relieved that all he could really smell was cinnamon and oatmeal. All the same, he bit into the cookie very hesitantly, unsure what to expect. He wasn’t sure what Sera would use for baking. He had no desire to eat a whole piece of ginger, for example. Or bite into a clove. “So. Cookies. We’re eating cookies. On the roof.”

“They’re horrible, right? And raisins, ugh! I still friggin’ hate cookies.”

“I like raisins,” Eilan admitted.

“You would,” Sera said with a slight sneer. “Do you really like them, or are you just trying to not hurt their feelings?”

“I prefer raisins without feelings,” Eilan told her, staring down at the cookie in his hand. “You know, this is about as far from what I expected as we could get.”

Sera explained her dislike of cookies. It had started when she got caught stealing in an Orlesian household. Instead of being sent to an alienage, she’d been taken in by the Lady Emmald. The woman was older and she was in poor health. Since she couldn’t have children of her, Sera had been all but adopted. Eventually Sera had wanted cookies. More importantly, she wanted a mother who made cookies for her. So the woman had bought cookies from a baker and passed them off as her own. To keep the secret, she told Sera the baker hated elves and to avoid his shop. Sera in turn had been quite merciless in making the man’s life difficult.

“She let me hate so she could protect her pride. I hated him so much, and I hated… Well, she died. And I hate pride. ‘Pride cookies.’”  
It seemed likely the pride was not one-sided. And Eilan suspected that Sera had said something she regretted to the Lady Emmald around the time the woman’s illness got the better of her.

“But! This Inquisition thing is working out. So I figured I could make some... 'Inquisition cookies?' Because then I could like them again?” She gave him a very earnest, hopeful look that made her look so young. And then she scowled, looking off the edge of the roof. “Ugh, it’s stupid."

There was a part of Eilan that couldn’t quite understand why cookies mattered so much. But then he had never been a small elf child. He’d never grown up always and keenly aware of how different he was. He wasn't as used as she'd become to be constantly being judged and found wanting. Since cookies did matter to her, he didn’t see the harm in letting Sera continue to make them.

“You know what?” he said. “That would be great.”

Sera blinked up at him. "Wait, really?” she asked, lips curving into a smirk. “Because it seemed frigging daft every step to me.”

Eilan was tempted to point out that this was her idea, but he figured she was just pretending the idea didn’t mean much to her. She had a way of doing that with things she actually cared about or enjoyed.

“Suppose it's not really about them. I hate learning lessons. Makes my stomach hurt."

“So I’ve heard.”

The elf rolled her eyes. “I’m avoiding him, aren’t I? I said I was sorry but he’s got about eight fathers and I’ve got no one.”

“Eight fathers?”

Sera scowled. “Everyone is all worried about their precious ickle Cole.”

“It’s just that he’s new to everything, and he doesn’t know how to let people know when he’s had enough of something.”

“It was only teasing.”

“Tease other people.”

“Fine. You owe me pranks.”

“After Emprise du Lion. I’ll need something amusing to do before the Ball.”

“Right.” Sera had been quite pleased not to be invited. “In the mean time, I’ll throw this rubbish out. Next time will be better, yeah?”

“I could take them off your hands. I’m sure Bull would eat them.”

“Are Qunari like goats then? Eating whatever’s on hand?”

Eilan chuckled. “Mine seems to be.”

“Look at you. Handling a joke and all,” Sera said with a smile. “Never thought I’d see the day. So. More cookies when we get back?”

“More cookies anytime. Can we get off the roof now?”

“Oh, yes, please. It smells like bird and dank. This part, not a good idea.”

“We can try the battlements with the next batch.”

She nodded, before jostling his side with her elbow. “Thanks, yeah? Feels good, this.”

“What the… Hey! Why are you two on the roof?”

Eilan glanced down at Bull and smiled. “Hello."

Bull grunted. "Don't 'hello' me. Answer the question."

"We’re eating cookies. Do you want one?”

“Not as much as I’d like for you not to be on the roof.”

“That so? I could push him off,” Sera offered. “A joke, by the way.”

“It had fucking better be.”

Eilan laughed. “I could jump down. You could catch me.”

“And you could break your neck so no. You go back inside and you come down the stairs and you can find me and then we’ll talk.”

“I don’t know,” Eilan said with a smile. “I might stay up here if you’re going to scold me once I come down.”

“If you stay there, I’ll come out on the roof and break the tavern as I haul you back inside. Is that what you want, boss? Me breaking the only tavern we have?”

“All right, all right. We’re coming down, but don’t think you’re getting any of these cookies.”

“Yeah, don’t know how, but I’ll manage without whatever crappy cookies Sera made.”

“Oi,” Sera said with a frown. “They weren’t as bad as all that.”

“Uh huh. I’m sure they were worse.”

Eilan laughed when she chucked the cookie basket at Bull’s head. But, as he insisted once he got off of the roof, it was only because the basket had gotten caught on the Qunari’s horns.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to say this time. Dealing with the aftermath of a blizzard and driving to work has left me in a terrible mood. Although re-reading this chapter while editing did cheer me up slightly. As you might have guessed, I am a fan of nonsense.
> 
> I've also started a second fic called Love Me And Mend. It's for Anders/Maevaris that takes place primarily in Tevinter. It can be found over [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3264989), and it vaguely ties into this one in that it involves the same Hawke, same Anders, etc.
> 
> The next update will be on Thursday. It will most likely include adventures in dragon-slaying and a slightly different encounter with Imshael.


	29. Chapter 29

*

All in all, it wasn’t very surprising to learn that Dorian had taken it upon himself to do a copious amount of research on the dragons. Or, at least, he’d gotten Frederic to do a copious amount of research.

Eilan had looked over the dossiers he’d been given for the better part of a day, frowning for the most part and underlining certain words and key phrases. The good news was that either one of Eilan’s Schools of Magic would prove useful depending on whichever dragon he was facing. The bad news was the dragons of Emprise du Lion were vastly out of their individual and collective leagues.

However, the biggest complication and obstruction to dragon-slaying was brought to Eilan’s attention by a fairly distraught Josephine. The bridge at Judicael’s Crossing had been partially destroyed by red templars and every noble in Orlais was desperate to save that particular historical landmark.

In the end, there was no choice but to leave the Orlesian dragons alone. At least until the bridge was finished and time permitted Eilan to seek them out again. There was much to do before the Ball and doubtlessly a great deal to do afterwards. Eilan noted that only Bull seemed put out by this.

“So,” Eilan decided as he addressed his company, “I would like to go contend with the two dragons here in Ferelden. I would like to take Cullen, Bull, Cassandra, Varric, and Dorian with me. Then, after the dragons, we will all go back to Orlais.”

“Of course,” Dorian said, rolling his eyes. “I can’t possibly be left out of anything dragon-related.”

“I think you and Cullen could do well together. Fighting, I mean. And you’ll be my only hope against Vinsomer.”

The Tevinter mage smiled. “There will never be a time when you don’t need my invaluable services. It’s just… Do we really have to go to a place called Dragon Island? It’s so…pedestrian.”

“There’s a place that’s literally called Dragon Island?” Bull asked. “This just gets better and better.”

So they set off to do some dragon-slaying. First to the Hinterlands, then the Storm Coast, and then Orlais. Eilan’s hope was Cullen could remain with them a majority of the time. The others tagged along, but they would be spending most of their time either at camp or handing smaller assignments.

The dragon was yellow with orange on its massive horned head. Her skin was also mottled, covered from head to tail in brown rosettes.

“We saw this one before,” Cassandra said as they headed into Lady Shayna’s Valley. “I am sure that we did.”

“Oh, we saw the dragon all right,” Varric said with a grin. “This was back before we found the rest of you. And the kid here just takes off running as this swarm of dragonlings go after the rest of us. Meanwhile Mom is circling around hurling fireballs at the rest of us. Chuckles had a great time.”

“Kadan… You have run away from a lot of dragons,” Bull said with a disappointed frown.

“Because he wasn’t ready,” Cullen pointed out. “Proper training and motivation is required for this sort of thing, surely.”

“If one expects to survive,” Cassandra agreed.

Eilan glanced back to Dorian who was trudging along behind them. He’d been having a good time until he’d fallen into a river. Since then, and even after changing clothes two or three times, Dorian had followed at the slowest pace imaginable.

“Can you magic up a raincloud, Inquisitor?” Varric asked. “Because he really needs a little raincloud hovering over his head.”

“Some of us don’t enjoy all of this nature,” Dorian said with a sneeze.

“You can do it, Sparkler!” Varric called out to him. He shook his head in the direction of the rest of the party. “He’s not very good at being an evil Magister from Tevinter.”

“I’m sure there must be some nice people in Tevinter,” Eilan mused. “Besides Dorian, I mean.”

“There’s some very nice people. They’re just--”

“Simple or touched in some way? Likely to be brutally murdered in their beds?” Cassandra asked.

Varric made a face. It was the same incredulous one he usually offered up when Cassandra said something that seemed less than tactful. “Uh, no, I wouldn’t say that. They’re just harder to meet when you’re not in Tevinter.”

“But you know of one?” Cassandra snorted. “Of course you do.”

“I know a lot of people, Seeker. Some of them are less immune to my many charms.”

“And this ‘Magister from Tevinter’ is tolerant of you.”

“More than tolerant.”

“He actually likes you?”

“ _She_ thinks I’m pretty terrific.”

“Well, her judgment must be impaired and why should it not be? She lives in the Imperium and it is a very strange, off-putting place full of people who are much the same.”

“Two words, Seeker. Grand Necropolis.”

Cassandra made a disgusted noise.

It was impossible to make short work of a dragon. The Frostback had more than her fair share of dragonlings. She also had no issue breathing fire virtually non-stop. Every so often she would just take off into the sky raining down fireballs before moving to another spot in the valley. Then they would have to chase after her to continue the battle.

They all came out of the fight just fine, if a bit bruised. Bull had gotten the brunt of it, which had pleased him. He seemed to enjoy being set on fire. The rest of them had been pleased by the loot, Dorian most of all since the best item they found was a Grand Enchanter’s staff.

“Even Solas will be jealous,” Dorian declared, nature and mud and dragon all but forgotten.

Bull had, of course, seen fit to spoil the moment. “Just make sure you wait until you’re alone to wave your staff in Solas’ face.”

Back at camp, Eilan tugged Cullen into their tent.

“Did you enjoy it at all?” Eilan asked, wiping at the blood flecked over Cullen’s face.

Cullen chuckled, pulling Eilan to him. “I did,” he said, kissing Eilan’s lips. “So did you. And you looked very good ordering people about.”

“Right back at you, Commander.”

“I particularly like how well you can fight. It’s been a long while since I saw a mage in action. Even longer since I saw what a Knight-Enchanter could do.”

“I’m only just starting,” Eilan protested, but he was glad to receive the praise.

“All the same, it’s impressive. And you have this way of smiling when a spell lands perfectly.”

“I’m surprised you had time to notice that.”

“Even with a giant yellow dragon nearby, I find it impossible not to notice you.”

Eilan smiled.

“Yes, it’s a lot like that when you’re fighting. It’s a very sweet, attractive quality.”

“Thank you.”

“I should be thanking you. And obviously I enjoyed the part where it died. And watching you and Cassandra… Maker’s Breath.”

“What do you mean?”

“You work well together, my love... Let’s leave it at that, if you don’t mind.”

Eilan laughed. “What does that even mean?”

“It’s not a sight I’ll soon forget.”

“Bull managed well enough.”

“Oh certainly.”

“He just gets very excited, and his technique is very different from hers.”

Cullen smiled warmly. “Oh, Eilan… I know,” he said soothingly, brushing his fingers over Eilan’s. “I know. He did very well too, and I’m certain no one in all of Thedas has ever gotten more pleasure out of being set ablaze.”

Eilan blushed considerably.

“What?”

“Oh, just… he’s… um… When it comes to dragons and everything, Bull just--”

The tent flap opened and Bull joined them. His chest was bandaged up and his left arm was hanging limp at his side. “I get a lot of satisfaction out of killing dragons. Especially with Eilan.”

“Yes,” Eilan shyly agreed. He moved over to Bull. The Qunari didn’t really need the help but he didn’t seem to mind Eilan helping him to a cot. “How are you?” he asked, kissing Bull’s cheek.

“Almost as good as new. So you can stop worrying. It’s just some burn marks and a few busted ribs. The usual.”

“Still.”

“Are you hungry, Bull?” Cullen asked.

Bull eyed him quizzically. “Uh. Maybe? Why?”

“I’ll get you something to eat if you’d like.”

Bull grunted. “Oh. Sure. As long as you come back. You just killed your first dragon and Eilan’s pretty into that too.”

Cullen laughed. “Oh, I’ll return.”

“It’s not such a strange question,” Eilan observed once Cullen had left them behind.

“No, but he usually doesn’t look after my needs when you’re around.”

Eilan laughed. “I suppose not.”

“Good job out there. You redeemed yourself.”

“I’m sorry I’ve run away so often.”

“Eh, you’re making up for it. I just worry about your reputation.”

“Still?”

“Still, but don’t worry, kadan.”

“I wasn’t all that—” Eilan chuckled as Bull glared balefully at him. “All right, all right.” He cleared his throat and, adopting a helpless, flustered tone, he added: “Oh, I am so very worried, Bull. Whatever shall I do?”

Bull snorted. “What we’re going to do is kill all the high dragons around. No one will care about you running away then.”

“Not to be unkind to Dorian, but at least I didn’t run away flailing and screeching. I just briskly walked away in the opposite direction.”

“There is that.”

“And you love me so very much that you can’t hold a thing against me.”

“Yeah, yeah. I love you more than anything,” Bull muttered. “You seem to think that is going to get you out of trouble all the time.”

“It is.”

Bull rolled his eye, but didn’t correct him.

Cullen returned with two trays, handing the one with the most food to Bull. The other had two smaller portions. “It just made more sense for all of us to eat together,” he said.

“Right. Should I… help you, Bull?”

Bull shook his head. “I’ve got this. Go eat something and then come back to me.”

Eilan brushed a hand over Bull’s horns. He kissed the Qunari for a good long while before joining Cullen.

“Huh,” Cullen murmured quietly.

“Hm?”

“Never mind. Here’s your food, sweetheart.”

*

Getting to Dragon Island had involved clearing out a red templar stronghold, which no one had been at all opposed to.

“That takes cares of that,” Varric said cheerfully as Bull took out the last bit of primeval Red Lyrium that they were likely to find. “And I’m guessing that,” he added, pointing to a row boat, “takes us to Dragon Island.”

“Have you nothing more colorful to say about it?” Cassandra asked.

Varric smirked. “Like what, Seeker?”

“Dragon Island, where dragons go to die,” Dorian suggested.

“What about this? Dragon Island, you won’t want to go there and yet you’ll never leave.”

“I like my slogan a great deal better.”

“Suit yourself. So. Who’s rowing?” Varric asked. “Obviously it’s not going to be me.”

“Surely the Commander would oblige us. Although Bull could use the exercise.”

“Yeah?” Bull asked. “Sure. I’ll exercise. I’d get a much better work out if I picked you up and threw you in the general direction of Dragon Island.”

“I see. In that case, the Commander should still row.”

Eilan sighed good-naturedly. “Dorian, you can’t just volunteer people for things.”

“He doesn’t have to do it simply because I said so. It is merely a suggestion.”

“I will row if it gets us to this island,” Cassandra muttered. “I would prefer to be done with this dragon as soon as possible.”

“Agreed,” Dorian said.

“Whatever pleases the Inquisitor,” Cullen said with a shrug. “I have no objections to hard work.”

“Have Cullen do it and I’ll help Cullen out,” Bull offered. “Because I want to, Vint.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Uh huh.”

Cullen smiled at the Qunari. “Thank you, Bull.”

Bull shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’ll give me something to do.”

“You like Cullen,” Eilan said happily as the others moved away. They worked on hauling the row boat towards the water.

“Obviously.”

“It just… I like having both of you in my life, and I know it’s a little awkward at times for the two of you. So It makes me happy that you both get along.”

Bull smiled, ruffling Eilan’s hair. “I never would have noticed, kadan. But of course I like him. You’ve got great taste in men, remember?”

“So we can keep sleeping together? All three of us? Sometimes, I mean.”

“Don’t see why not. That’s been nice too.”

When they arrived at Dragon Island and while the others moved on ahead, Eilan kissed both Cullen and Bull.

“What’s that for?” Bull asked.

“Rowing. It was very good of you.”

“If you say so.”

Eilan smiled watching Bull and Cullen gather up their gear. Cullen also had some armor to put back on. He’d taken it off to row, and he’d left his pauldrons and cape wrapped around Eilan’s shoulders.

“Do you get a lot of that?” Cullen asked Bull.

“Kisses when I do things? Yeah. Less than you’d expect, but then he’s shy.”

“I have noticed.”

“The key is to remind him about it later. Because he’ll feel bad he didn’t think to kiss you and he’ll feel inclined to more than make up for it. He’s sweet like that.”

“I see.”

“Time to focus on the task at hand, gentlemen,” Eilan insisted.

“Of course, Inquisitor.”

“Hey! Maybe you guys want to hurry it up,” Varric shouted from some point in the near distance. “The dragon of Dragon Island breathes electricity.”

“Fuck yeah,” Bull said, patting Cullen on the back and then dashing away from them. After a seconds, he yelled out: “Hey, boss, it’s the one that was attacking the giant!”

“He really loves this,” Cullen said as they hurried after him.

“I’d be jealous if the dragons didn’t end up dead by the end of it.”

Cullen laughed. “You’re always the one to kill them though.”

“I have to curtail my jealously somehow.”

Once the dragon came into view, Eilan threw a barrier up around Dorian and Cassandra.

The dragon Vinsomer had some unique attacks and one in particular was sort of devastating. Eilan focused on Dispel and Barrier, providing what support he could. He’d found that, since the Fade, he had gotten a bit preoccupied with defending Bull’s blind spot, but he kept an eye on the others as well. In addition to making sure everyone had enough potions for the fight, he had also had brought along plenty of tonics. The key to their victory, however, seemed to be Dorian’s Spirit spells.

There was never a downside to bringing Varric or Cassandra along. Varric and Bianca were both lethal in their own ways. Cassandra could probably have taken on a smaller dragon all by herself. Bull was overly eager, but he directed his maul and his enthusiasm in the right direction.

Cullen was also a force to be reckoned with in a way that was quite similar to Cassandra. It was impossible for Eilan to tell if the lack of lyrium made any sort of a difference in terms of Cullen’s tactics, but he used a combination of methods. In what little spare time the Commander had, Cullen had been working at learning to become a Champion from Blackwall and Lord Chancer.

While the other warriors moved forward, Cullen stayed closer to Eilan and Dorian. It wasn’t all that distracting but there were times when it was hard not to stare at Cullen who seemed to take every attack, particularly those meant for the mages behind him, in stride. He seemed to radiate an invincible, fierce determination that made Eilan wish they were somewhere else altogether.

Vinsomer came at them hard towards the end, aware that his greatest threat was Dorian.

Dorian’s attacks brought the dragon to its knees but Cullen delivered the final blow. He brought his sword down hard on the dragon’s neck, slicing the blade upwards as the dragon roared one final time.

“Dragon Island is going to be quite the let-down now,” Varric said cheerfully.

“Pretty much,” Bull agreed, pulling Cullen into a hug. “Nice work, Champion.”

Cullen laughed. “Yes, well, don’t think this makes up for how irritated you were that I wasn’t going to become a Reaver.”

Bull snorted. “Hey now. That’s still plenty disappointing.” He moved away to help Cassandra.

“You and Dorian did so well,” Eilan said, still marveling at both Dorian’s spells and Cullen’s fortitude. Although, truth be told, it was difficult to think very long about Dorian with Cullen standing so close by.

“We had help,” Dorian insisted. “But I did do spectacularly well. And Cullen did his best, it must be said.”

“High praise indeed,” Cullen murmured, looking amused. “Do I get some decent loot then?”

“Decent? No. Only the best for the best,” Eilan said with a smile.

Cullen grinned. “Right you are, my—That is… Inquisitor.”

They both continued staring at each other like that when no one seemed inclined to say anything else. Dorian was watching them in amusement. Cassandra and Bull were busy taking the dragon apart and cataloging the pieces. And Varric…

Varric cleared his throat. “So, Inquisitor, we’re all friends here.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning stop making weird faces and kiss the poor bastard, would you? It’s not like you haven’t kissed him before. None of us are blind and… Maker’s sake, he just killed a dragon for you. What better incentive do you need?”

Eilan blushed but he didn’t need any more prompting. Nor did Cullen who was remarkably quick to kiss him. Several more kisses followed in rapid succession once the others left them to it.

Cullen brushed his fingers over Eilan’s cheek. “He’s right, I suppose. I did kill a dragon for you.”

“And with me too. Maybe the Qunari aren’t so weird after all.”

“How so?”

“Killing a dragon is a big deal. Qunari give dragon teeth necklaces to people who matter to them. Because they don’t believe in marriage.”

“Since we’re not Qunari and since we do believe in marriage… Does that mean we just got married since we’ve killed a dragon together?”

Eilan laughed. “We’d have to make necklaces. I suppose I wouldn’t mind only…”

“Only?”

“Only that would mean I could have married Bull four times by now. And I could have married you twice over.”

“Then it’ll be seven and five times once we kill the other dragons. If we were keeping track.”

“If,” Eilan agreed. “And we can keep track. As long as you two don’t make turn this into a competition.”

“Very well,” Cullen said with a smile. He tilted Eilan's chin up as he kissed him again. “Hm. There’s only one way to avoid that, I’m afraid.”

“Does it involve me killing the rest of the high dragons myself?”

“Of course not, sweetheart,” Cullen said, pulling Eilan into his arms. He kissed the mage’s neck then his forehead. “It simply means that regardless of how many dragons we have or have not killed, you’ll have to keep both of us.”

“Oh, I think that can be arranged.”

*

Letting Cullen return to Skyhold was as difficult as Eilan had anticipated and yet somehow worse.

Cullen had seemed sad but also oddly pleased. As if he honestly hadn’t expected to be missed at all. He seemed a little bit reluctant to go though, particularly once Bull had indicated that it wouldn’t be the same without him before leaving the two humans to say their final goodbyes.

“There is nothing final about this,” Cullen insisted, pulling Eilan to him. “You’ll be back before you know it. And I’ll track down Samson with you in the future. And other dragons.”

“Yes but you’re so very good at fighting and dragon-slaying and you’re so… It’s been perfect having you along, Cullen. It’s felt really right to have you here with me.”

“You’re not losing me anytime soon.”

“Or ever,” Eilan insisted.

“Or ever, Cullen agreed.

Eilan frowned. “You keep smiling. Aren’t you heartbroken?”

“I’m sorry, my love, but… You have to understand that I’m not used to this.”

“This being?”

“Having someone who misses me fiercely and hates to see me go. It’s… I’m sorry but I find that I enjoy it.”

“I don’t.”

Cullen hugged him gently. “I know. I love you very much, Eilan. I will miss you more than you know as soon as you’re out of sight. Now kiss me and send me off to do your bidding elsewhere.”

“All right.” But just to prove he didn’t have to follow orders, Eilan kissed Cullen about twelve times before finally relenting and letting the man leave.

Back in Emprise du Lion, Ser Michel de Chevin was more than pleased to see them again, particularly Cassandra. He had been intending to hunt down a demon and had mentioned it the first time Eilan had encountered him, but the situation in Sahrnia hadn’t entirely improved.

In fact it had been made worse. The demon Michel pursued had been “amused” by the chevalier’s efforts as well as the Inquisition’s interference. Shades and red templars were headed into the village. Michel had promised the people his aid, and even his desire for revenge couldn’t keep him from honoring that pledge.

Leaving Suledin Keep and the demon Imshael to the Inquisition, the chevalier rushed away, his footsteps light upon the ground. Snow was swirling around them as Eilan, Solas, Cassandra, Iron Bull, Varric, and Blackwall entered the Keep.

Suledin Keep was a large fortress made of white stones. Vines curled around crumbling walls. Trees sprouted from the ruins. Red lyrium grew up through pillars and out of the cracks in the stones. Imshael seemed to be growing it for Corypheus’ forces.

As they moved further into the place, they encountered the usual groups of red templars and, for a change of pace, two giants. Red lyrium sprouted from their neck and tusks. 

A man stood in the center of the Keep, in a throne room full of statues and stained glass windows. He watched them fight the last of the red templars. His arms were folded, but he offered up a small amused clap as Eilan approached him. Red magic sizzled and crackled in the air behind him. “So, the little hero arrives.”

“You’re Imshael?”

“I am.”

“And you’re… a demon?”

“I am a spirit of choice.”

“So a demon,” Varric wryly replied. “A desire demon, and not a very good one if that’s the look you’ve selected.”

Eilan eyed the dwarf quizzically. “The look he’s selected?”

“He’s dressed exactly like a certain apostate whose shall remain nameless.”

“It is not a good look for anyone,” Cassandra agreed.

Imshael rolled his eyes. “You mortals have such a limited view of things. Demons and spirits. Good and bad. Pathetic.”

“So you exist in-between those two things,” Eilan surmised. “You could go either way.”

Imshael’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Could I?”

“Yes. Choice is neither good nor bad. In of itself. At a guess… You provide the options and people damn themselves accordingly?”

“Exactly so. What is your name?”

“How about no?” Bull said. “Fuck, but he’s chatty. I hate the chatty ones.”

“I am not talking to you,” the demon noted, not taking his eyes off of Eilan. “Now. What’s your name, little mage?”

Solas said something in a language Eilan could not understand.

Imshael answered him in the same without so much as sparing Solas a glance. “Your name. There’s nothing I can do with just a name. You already know mine.”

“Eilan Trevelyan.”

“Excellent. Eilan Trevelyan, you seem reasonable. Your friends, however, seem violent. It’s worrying seeing as I am severely outnumbered.”

“If appearances can be believed,” Blackwall said.

“Which they cannot,” Cassandra added. “Let us just kill him and be done with it.”

“Or,” Imshael suggested, “Or you can wait, and true to my name, I shall give you a choice. It doesn’t always have to end in blood, Eilan.”

“I suppose it doesn’t. It usually does though.”

“I’m sure.”

“All right. Talk but make it quick.”

“Eilan.”

“Bull, it’s fine.”

“Perfectly fine,” the demon agreed in a low murmur. “It rarely hurts to listen. So let us not fight. Let me give you something else. But what would you like, my dear? Not power. Not wealth. Not virgins.”

Eilan couldn’t help it. He laughed. “Is that what most people want?”

“Yes, but you are not most people. You are… interesting.”

“If you’re not a demon and you really are a spirit… You could always make a choice instead. Stop working for Corypheus and do something else. As you said, it doesn’t always have to end in violence.”

“As I said,” Imshael agreed. “I could make a choice, couldn’t I?”

“If he leaves, we have no way of knowing what he’ll do,” Blackwall insisted. “Not to us and not to anyone else.”

“I’m not saying he leaves just that it does get tedious killing everyone we ever meet,” Eilan admitted. “Don’t you think?” He thought about looking at the others, but he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of Imshael.

“Hey,” Bull said loudly.

Eilan blinked and looked at him.

“I never get tired of killing demons,” Bull pointed out. “Better to kill than talk to them, kadan.”

“It would be good to stop talking,” Cole said quietly. “It would be good to be less interesting.”

Imshael laughed, drawing Eilan’s focus back once more. “As if he could. I think I _will_ make a choice. I think I’ll keep you.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a slight cliffhanger-ish there at the end... But it seemed better to have the rest of what happens with Imshael in the next chapter and not this one. 
> 
> The next update will be on Saturday.


	30. Chapter 30

*

The bed was large and white. His clothes were white too, soft robes that felt heavy in spite of the feathers on his shoulders. Snowflakes seemed to fall from the ceiling, melting against his lips and eyelashes. Eilan stretched languidly, blinking as a hand carded through his hair.

“Good morning, my pet.”

“Good morning.” He hesitated, searching for the right name. He wasn’t sure why. Who else was there? “Imshael.”

The demon -- his demon-- touched his hand, eyeing the light green glow curiously. “Is this still bothering you? I know you’ve had a hard time focusing. Strange dreams and even stranger notions.”

“I think I’m all right.”

Lips brushed against his forehead. “Good.”

Eilan startled slightly, feeling at the spot where Imshael had kissed him. “I…”

“Something wrong?”

“No. No, I don’t think so.”

Imshael rose to his feet. “Come here to me.”

Eilan got up from the bed, going to Imshael. He laughed, smiling a bit as the demon moved further away from him. “Where are you going?”

“Does it matter? Follow.”

“What else would I do?”

“You’re so good. I am so very fond of you already.”

“Already? I… Haven’t I been here a long time?”

“Always. And I am teasing you.” Imshael stopped, letting Eilan draw closer. He put his arms around the mage, tugging him into a kiss.

Eilan allowed it for a moment, pulling away as he took a look at the demon’s face. He wasn’t right. This wasn’t who he kissed. Was it?

“Where do you think you are going?”

“I…mmph.”

Imshael kissed him hard.

It felt right for a second. Then other names came to mind. Bull. Cullen.

“You are distracted, my pet.”

“We shouldn’t,” Eilan insisted. “I shouldn’t.”

“No? Why ever not?”

“Because he’s not yours.”

White walls quickly gave way to shattered stained glass, splintered red lyrium, and twitching black spider legs.

“Bull,” Eilan said quietly.

The Qunari was dripping blood, but none of it seemed to be his own. A decent portion of it was green against his grey skin. His fingers loosened then tightened against the grip on his maul as he gritted his teeth. “If he’s anyone’s… Then he’s mine. And I fucking hate demons.”

“So you’ve said,” Imshael murmured. He twisted Eilan’s arm, pulling the mortal closer as the mage yelped. “Very well. Since you’re so very bloodthirsty and I am so very eager to be rid of you… Let’s fight.”

“Yeah, and it’s about fucking time, asshole.”

Imshael tilted his head to one side, shoving Eilan roughly to the cobblestones. The demon stepped around him as he moved towards the Qunari. He changed shape as he charged, becoming a fear demon much like the one from the Fade.

Bull fought him on his own and then with the others who had finally finished carving their way through a swarm of spider-shaped demons. Solas moved past them, keeping his distance and helping Eilan to his feet. The elf handed Eilan his staff and they joined the fight alongside the others.

When the fear demon fell, a rage demon took its place. Once that demon melted away, a hulking pride demon materialized.

Eilan felt a bit off-balance, but he kept close to Solas and performing ranged attacks. As the pride demon began to lumber slowly, flicking its electric whip, Bull brought his maul down on the monster’s back, then up again, hacking into its side.

“But I only just started,” Imshael said. And then he was gone.

“And I just finished. That’s usually how it works,” Bull pointed out.

The others focused on looting after that.

Eilan watched them, wrapping his arms around his chest. There was a bruise on his wrist from the demon. Staring at it, he felt equal parts strange and stupid. He should have remembered that demons were always looking for a way to use mages, especially those who weren’t used to interacting with them.

“Hey,” Bull said, coming over to him.

Eilan looked down. “Hey.”

Bull bent down and kissed his forehead.

Eilan reluctantly looked up, feeling troubled. “Bull, I’m sor--”

“None of that. Just… No more talking to demons, understand?”

“I understand. You’re very bloody at the moment.”

The Qunari kissed Eilan’s hair and put his arms around him. “Yeah, I guess so. There were a lot of fucked-up things between you and me. I didn’t like it.”

“You’re unharmed?”

Bull snorted. “None of this blood’s mine. Not enough of it is his either. Fuck talking. Punching and disemboweling and maiming. That’s the way to handle demons. If you want to talk so badly, talk to me or one of the others.”

Eilan nodded.

Bull gently took Eilan’s hands in his. “You good?”

Eilan nodded, sniffling slightly and blinking a bit. “Just a little bruised. And very foolish.”

“Only a little. Come on, kadan. It’s all right. That wasn’t your fault.”

“I know and I know you don’t need me to say it, but I am really sorry, love. He was… I didn’t…”

Bull brushed a finger under Eilan’s eyes. “Hey, it’s okay. You know that, right?”

“I know.”

“And you know I’m not mad at you, right? I’m just glad you’re okay. I want to get you back to camp so I can kiss that stupid bruise off your wrist. And every trace of him off your lips. Then I just want to hold you and if you want to talk, you can talk. And I’ll listen. Or if you want to kiss some more, we’ll kiss some more. Or I’ll read to you until you fall asleep. Or some combination of those things. Or anything else you want.”

“I don’t think bruises work that way, but… Really? You’ll do all of those things and more besides?”

“I will. Because you’re mine. Because I love you.”

Eilan smiled shakily. “Has it been five minutes already?”

Bull smiled, ruffling Eilan’s hair. “Yeah, it has. So. You tired?”

Eilan nodded again.

“Want a ride back to camp?”

“I wish that was possible, but we didn't bring any mounts with.”

“I meant that I could carry you.”

Eilan raised an eyebrow, considering the offer. “What, really?”

“Yeah, sure. On my shoulders.”

“I thought we couldn't do things that ruined my image. Would I even fit up there?”

Bull chuckled. “Well, you’re not as small as an elf, but yeah. Don’t see why not. Besides, it’s something we haven’t tried before and it’s something a friend would do. And if you’re tired then it’s harmless. Don’t you think?”

“I do think. Um. Can I hold onto your horns?”

Bull rolled his eye. “Obviously.”

“Oh,” Eilan said, smiling sheepishly when Bull knelt down. “Then… Yes, please, Bull.”

Once he was situated, Eilan leaned over the top of Bull’s head and kissed him soundly. “Thank you,” he murmured before leaning back again, letting his fingers rest on Bull’s horns. “I love you too, you know.”

“So I’ve been told.” Bull patted Eilan’s left thigh. He brushed his fingers over the mage’s knee as he started walking. “And you’re welcome, kadan.”

*

Being allowed to accompany Vivenne had been rewarding and yet ultimately depressing. There wasn’t anything Eilan could do for her besides stand vigil with her during Duke Bastien’s final moments. She kept to herself for a time after that, retreating to her rooms once they reached Skyhold. And while she would speak to Eilan, she didn’t really say much.

After playing pranks with Sera until Solas noticed, Eilan went to Blackwall who was putting the finishing touches on the staff.

Eilan blinked hard as he examined all of the details, the ones he’d already noticed and all of the new swirls and spirals in the wood. The creatures carved throughout almost seemed real.

“I think you've more than earned this. I only hope it’ll still be of use to you.”

“I would have to be the most ungrateful wretch alive not to find a use for a staff like this.

Blackwall laughed. “I’d hardly say that.”

Although Eilan felt quite comfortable around the Warden, he’d never been anything remotely close to physically affectionate with the older man. So he hesitated before giving Blackwall a hug. “Thank you. For this and all that you’ve done.”

The Warden smiled awkwardly, patting Eilan’s shoulder. “Now, Inquisitor… You hardly had to do that.”

“Yes, I did. You’re my friend and you've done a great deal.”

“Perhaps,” Blackwall said with a frown. He let go of Eilan, clearing his throat as if to add something but then he lapsed into silence.

“What’s wrong?”

“I should…” Blackwall sighed. “Later. There is something I wish to discuss with you. Only later. After the Ball, if it suits you.”

“We can discuss it now.”

“No,” Blackwall insisted. “No, Eilan. Now would be… I shouldn't like for it to be now,” he added gently, looking sad. “Not yet. I’d like a little more time first. Please.”

“I...of course. Take whatever time you need.”

“I need far more time than I can have,” Blackwall muttered, but he didn't add anything else. He didn't seem entirely willing to explain what he meant.

Eilan’s grip tightened on the staff he’d been given. “It is… It’s not the Calling? It can’t be. Not after all that’s happened.”

Blackwall’s grave expression softened minutely. “No, lad. It’s something else. Something that can wait. Trust me.”

“Of course.”

He wasn’t sure what Blackwall wanted to discuss, but his heart felt heavy as he left the stables. Maybe it wasn't the Calling, maybe it was something else… Whatever it was, it couldn't be very good.

There was still so much to do, but Eilan decided he would do what he usually did whenever he felt overburdened or overwhelmed. After depositing the new staff safely in his quarters, he set about locating Bull. This proved to be a simple enough task, for when he headed towards the tavern, he saw the Qunari over in the training grounds letting Cassandra hit him with a jousting pole.

Eilan raised an eyebrow as he approached them. He was just in time to see Cassandra lay Bull out flat, stabbing the pole into his chest and swinging it upward into the Qunari’s face.

“Good one,” Bull gasped.

Cassandra shook her head, thrusting the pole into Eilan’s hands. “Perhaps you can take over. He is your idiot, after all.”

“Mine, and apparently the entire village’s,” Eilan agreed with a sigh.

Cassandra snorted and then departed.

Bull got to his feet. “Qunari training exercise in mastering fear. Been awhile since I needed it. But there’s been all kinds of fucking demons lately. That Nightmare demon was...big. And that other demon was chatty and handsy with you. It’s got me all riled up.”

“So I hit you with this stick and… I’m sorry. How does this help?”

“I could try explaining, but it would involve a lot of Qunlat.”

“Would it?”

“Basically it helps clear my mind. I know, I know. There’s not much there and--”

“Who am I? Dorian?” Eilan asked with a frown. “Look, you have a very...big...something else. And big hands and big everything. So obviously your brain and your heart are um….very large as well. Of course you’d want to clear it every now and again.”

Bull laughed. “Something else? You could say the word, you know.”

“I am not saying the word because with my luck Mother Giselle will pass by the second I do.”

“That would make my day. Just for the record. Anyway, Eilan… Go on and hit me with the stick, all right? I need to get over this demon crap.”

He still didn't understand exactly, but he himself had done and would continue to do plenty of things that Bull didn't understand. It seemed wrong to never just go along with the Qunari’s wishes, bizarre as they were proving to be. “All right.”

“Really?”

Eilan hit Bull’s right shoulder hard with the pole.

Bull grunted and smirked slightly. “Nice.” The grunting continued with Bull calling out encouragement for Eilan to hit him harder. “Oh, yeah. Like that but harder.”

Eilan found himself turning slightly red, but he complied.

“Damn demon,” Bull said after in-between additional hits and grunts. “Who’s stuck in the Fade, huh? That’s right. Your ugly dumb ass.”

“Love, if you’re--”

“Don’t. Just hang in there, kadan, and hit me.”

Eilan nodded worriedly, but he went back to hitting Bull.

“There we go. Like that. Piece of crap fucking asshole. Running your damn mouth. Messing with me and what’s mine. And who killed you? That’s right. Iron fucking Bull.” Bull sighed in a way that made Eilan’s ears turn pink as the mage put down the stick. “Oh, I needed that. Thanks, boss.”

“I feel...weird. And embarrassed.”

The Qunari laughed. “Cute. That’s because you’re afraid to say words like cock and-- Oh, uh, um… hi. Ma’am. Dorian. Nice day we’re having.”

Eilan considered opening up a rift into the Fade and hiding there. Then he glanced over his shoulder instead. “Good afternoon, Vivienne. Dorian.”

The First Enchanter of Orlais shook her head, tsking under her breath. “And you wonder why I never leave my chambers, Pavus.”

Dorian rubbed his temples. “Hardly. At the moment, I am wondering what the point of existence is. I cannot believe you two are doing this right in the middle of Skyhold.”

“I’m so sorry,” Eilan said, looking down at the grass around them.

Bull patted his shoulder, but didn’t say anything.

“I am certain that you are, my dear. However, I did enjoy seeing you hit him with that stick.”

“There is that at least.,” Dorian muttered. “Only I can’t imagine why they… Oh, now I can. O, Maker, take these dark and terrible thoughts away, if you’d be so kind.”

Eilan sighed heavily as the two mages left.

“Aw, kadan. It could be worse.”

“Could it be? They think this is some weird...thing… we do before we...do the other thing we do.”

“There’s words for those things. Awesome words like foreplay. And sex.”

“Was this… Was this foreplay?” Eilan asked in a hushed tone.

Bull grinned. “Sure,” he said in his usual, booming voice. “Let’s go have sex.”

Eilan blushed fiercely. “Can I ask you something?”

“All right. Shoot.”

“Why am I with you again?”

“Beats me. Literally as it turns out.”

“Right, well, I have other things to do besides…” He yelped, laughing when Bull snatched him up. “This is cheating, Bull. You’re cheating.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. Put me down.”

“First let me make a case as to why I shouldn't.”

“Oh, very well.”

“I like holding you. And when you turn all red and shy. And I like sex. And I like you. So… wanna?”

Eilan sighed, flicking Bull’s ear. “Yes, and you know it.”

“Good. Oh, uh… Shit.”

“What?”

“Don’t look but… Um. Hey, Mother Giselle, how’s it going?”

Eilan gasped, looking around and trying to squirm out of Bull’s hands. He frowned when he didn’t see the Revered Mother anywhere. The frown only intensified as Bull starting laughing at him. “That was really and extremely wrong of you.”

“Sorry, boss,” Bull managed, tightening his grip on Eilan.

“And this is what I get? After I hit you with a stick and everything.”

Bull only laughed harder, putting the mage over his shoulder.

Eilan shook his head, trying to keep from smiling and failing dismally. “You’re not even remotely sorry, are you?”

“No. No, I’m not.”

*

Eilan sighed happily, brushing his fingers over Bull’s horns. He was up against the headboards and Bull was draped heavily over his thighs. “Can we talk about the stick now?”

Bull yawned. “If you want.”

“It’s just… For someone who is afraid of demons… You’ve been very brave.”

“Afraid isn’t the right word. It’s… Look. You know how demons are really spirits deep down?”

“Right.”

“We’re all like that when you think about it. We’re all spirits who could snap at any time and become demons.”

“We are.”

“It makes sense if--- Wait. You agree?”

Eilan nodded. “I feel less uncertain of who I am now, thanks to you and thanks to becoming Inquisitor, but I know what it’s like to feel… To feel like anything could ruin everything I have. That people and things are trying to change me and I don’t want them to.”

“I remember.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“Hey, it’s all right. We all start somewhere. And, sure, you started off like a little wisp of nothing, but you’ve changed.”

“A little wisp of nothing?”

“In the Frostbacks, you were so in need of something to hold onto that it seemed like a strong wind could carry you away.”

“What did you see in me?”

“What didn’t I see in you? When didn’t I see you?” Bull asked. He yawned as he sat up. He joined Eilan at the headboards, resting his back against the wooden frame and ruffling Eilan’s hair.

“I know, kadan, you don’t like short answers so… I saw a lot of things. I don’t think I’ve actually stopped looking at you since we met. So I saw you before the Frostbacks and I saw you once we were done with them. I saw someone who felt way too much, but couldn’t go back to feeling nothing at all. I saw someone who was very strong but couldn’t stand to be so if it also meant being alone. I saw someone who needed someone else, which I could relate to. Didn’t expect you to… Well, I never imagined you would mean all that you do to me, but that’s a good thing. I like being surprised.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank _you_.”

“There is a difference though. Between us and spirits, I mean.”

“And that is?”

“We have more of a choice, you and I. There’s ways we can keep from snapping and keep in control. Ways that spirits don’t have. It’s why I’m worried about Cole. He must feel that way all of the time.”

“How’s the amulet hunt going?”

Eilan sighed. “We managed to secure one. Right now we’re still waiting for it to arrive. And we still don’t know if it will work on Cole.”

“Damn. That kid’s tough though. He’ll be okay.”

“Maybe you could tell him that a few more times? I’m not sure he always believes me.”

“I can. But, uh, going back to us...”

“Yes?”

“I have something for you.”

Eilan glanced up at Bull. “You do?”

“I was… going to save this because…” Bull shrugged. Then he reached under the bed, pulling out a wooden triangular box with silverite edges. “Because it seemed like I ought to. Thing is, I don’t want to always wait for you to do everything. You do enough as it is.... So I got us these.”

Eilan looked into the box and blinked. “It’s that… the one you mentioned. Those necklaces your people give to...”

“Yeah,” Bull gently replied. “From the first dragon we killed. I thought about using a tooth from the dragons we got with Cullen, but I think you and him need to have your own stuff. What is… That’s what matters. And right now that’s us.”

“This is… Oh, Bull, this is perfect.”

“One thing though.”

“All right.”

“Just because you could take this with you when you can’t take me with… I’d prefer you don’t go somewhere that I can’t follow. That includes dying. So if you take this necklace, you’re promising not to die without me.”

“That’s an awfully big promise, dear.”

“It was an awfully big dragon, kadan.”

Eilan kissed Bull, right under his eye, lips touching a set of small scars. “Then I promise. Where I go, you go. I’d prefer that anyway.”

Bull brushed Eilan’s hair back onto his shoulders before putting the necklace around the mage’s neck. “Looks good on you. Do me.”

Eilan smiled when Bull ducked his head. He put the necklace around Bull’s neck and then kissed him fiercely. “Bull,” he said gently, “Even if something happens… I know it won’t but if something did happen... If I were to--”

“Katoh,” Bull insisted, jaw clenching. “Stop. I love you so stop. Please. Just stop.”

Eilan wrapped his arms around Bull. He started stroking the Qunari’s horns when Bull rested his head against the nape of the mage’s neck. “I’m sorry,” he said, touching the Qunari’s back and shoulders. He worked on the tense knot of muscle he found near Bull’s neck. “I’m so sorry, love. I didn’t mean to.”

“I know. I mean, I get it. It’s an awfully big promise but so help me it’s one you’re keeping.”

“Yes, and I love you. I love you very much, and I’m not going anywhere. I’m not, Bull.”

“Good.”

“You have to promise the same thing, you know.”

Bull snorted. “Where would I go? I’m your bodyguard and I’m Tal-Vashoth.”

Eilan kissed Bull’s cheek. “Promise me or you’re fired.”

Bull laughed, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “All right. I promise,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around Eilan. “‘Sides, there’s nowhere else I want to be.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted Imshael to be more relevant, and I think I succeeded even if it isn't as much of a part as I would have liked to give him. What really makes me happy is how that whole interaction gave me a much better incentive to have Bull get hit upside the head with a stick for awhile. 
> 
> I also really liked the idea of Bull being the one to give the necklaces out because it has such significance to him. That and he's such a goofy romantic deep down, it's really sweet.
> 
> The next update should be Monday or Tuesday. And it will feature an incredibly unpleasant surprise for Eilan, that I genuinely feel terrible about, delivered in a very elegant package. 
> 
> I doubt anyone will guess what it is, but if you did, I suppose I'd have to write you a fic.


	31. Chapter 31

*

The next morning, Eilan made his rounds. He started with Solas and moved on to Leliana, Josephine, Cullen, and Blackwall before running to the library to find Dorian.

“About yesterday,” he began awkwardly.

“Oh, we’ll both survive,” Dorian said with a smirk. ”Whether living is worth it… Who can say?”

“I’m still sorry that you… Um. Mostly I’m sorry you saw what you think you saw.”

Dorian shook his head. “For my sake then, can we please stop discussing whatever it was I did or didn’t see? Nice necklace, by the way. Cullen’s doing?”

“Bull’s.”

“You do seem to have been a positive influence on him. What did Cullen get you?”

“Get me?”

“Yes. What did he get you after you showed him this necklace from Bull?”

“Nothing. I mean, I didn’t show it to him exactly. It’s not a competition, Dorian.”

“I should hope not. Cullen would be losing significantly if it was.”

“Gifts are well and good but… They both give me different, meaningful things. Even if Bull defanged every dragon in existence and presented me with a room full of necklaces, I’d want Cullen.”

“You should show him the necklace and say all that then.”

“Maybe I should.”

“Before you do, I was thinking that we ought to go over a few dances. And a few rules of etiquette. For old times’ sake.”

“It can’t hurt.”

“Excellent. I’d also like to see what you plan on wearing.”

“What I plan on wearing or what Vivienne insists I wear?”

“Hm. Both. Perhaps I can find you some middle ground between those two extremes.”

Eilan smiled. “If you could, I’d be forever in your debt.”

“No thank you. I should hate to see what became of me if I tried to collect and your beaus found out. Or… I suppose… is it one beau and one husband? Aren’t you technically married to Bull now?”

“Qunari don’t believe in marriage.”

“All the same, he’s given you the most important gift he can possibly think of. After you beat him with a stick. And you and I both know he’d be far happier if he’d become Tal-Vashoth for you and not because of his men. I’m not sure what else is required for you to be Qunari-married.”

“A belief in marriage is fundamental, I should think.”

“Nonsense. His people are idiots and-- Let me finish, Eilan. Their courtship rituals are suicidal expeditions into futility.”

Eilan rolled his eyes.

“Look at the one involving the necklace. I am quite certain the general idea is probably that anyone with a romantic notion should perish rather than return victorious. Only in spite of that, Bull has managed to find someone who is completely unlike what he ought to be with and yet completely perfect for him. In spite of himself, he’s still managed to land you. So he touches you non-stop and clearly worships the ground you walk on. Not that he wants you walking on the ground. He would probably build you a nest out of blankets and set it on top of his horns if he thought you’d stay there. And, Maker help me, he smiles every time he sees you and it’s actually…” Dorian grimaced. “Sweet.”

Eilan sighed, coloring slightly. “Well, he is very sweet. We’re very happy, Dorian. _I’m_ very happy.”

“Good. Because if you were with two men who didn’t want to make you happy, I would lose all faith in humanity.”

Eilan smiled. “Let’s just go look at the outfits, shall we?”

“Very well.”

Solas was standing by the outer door leading to Eilan’s quarters. “Inquisitor,” he said with a nod. “You’re busy.”

“Not any more so than usual,” Eilan assured him, letting the other men enter in front of him. “What is it, Solas?” he asked as they continued down the small hallway that led to his actual rooms.

“Cole. I understand that the amulet is on it’s way, and I was wondering if… Ah. It seems something has arrived.”

Eilan looked at the door, frowning. There was a rather large package propped against it, wrapped in rather ostentatious red and silver brocade.

“That is not the amulet, surely,” Dorian remarked. “It’s nearly as large as Cole.”

Solas smiled thinly. “Perhaps it’s a gift from a secret admirer.”

“I have no need of those.”

“You certainly do not,” Dorian said in a scornful tone. “Honestly, some fellows have all the luck.”

Eilan moved towards it, blinking when Solas grabbed his arm. “Yes?”

“A thought occurs,” the elf said. “If you do not believe this was left by someone that you know then it seems likely it could be from someone that you do not.”

“Really, Solas?” Dorian asked. “Didn’t we just discuss this?”

“Yes, but only as a gesture from someone who means the Inquisitor no harm. We did not consider the opposite.”

“I see,” Dorian said with a frown. “Yes. I imagine it would be wise to be suspicious.”

“Is there a line to see the Inquisitor and... is he actually in it?” Varric asked.

“I told you I was looking into the matter,” Solas said.

“Yeah, you did. I got tired of waiting. So. What’s going on out here?”

Eilan shrugged. “I received a package and we’re all… Actually, I don’t know what we’re doing.”

“This hallway’s all kinds of crowded,” Varric murmured, moving past everyone. He stopped in front of the package, eying it sharply. “Well, I don’t know what it is, but… There’s no traps. I doubt it’s poisoned.”

“Not poisoned,” Sera said, coming to stand next to the dwarf. “Looks awfully funny. Lumpy.”

“Is everyone looking for me right now?” Eilan asked.

“I think everyone’s here,” Bull muttered. “What’s going on, boss?”

“A package. That...um...may or may not be poisoned.”

“One way to tell,” Bull elbowed everyone out of the way and picked the package up. He sniffed the front and then the back of it. Then he licked the cord.

“What are you doing?” Dorian asked. “Are you eating it?”

“Nope. And it’s not poisoned. Maybe we should move the party inside, boss, so you can open it.”

“I suppose. I have no idea what it could be.” Eilan moved forward, opening the door and ushering everyone in.

“Something on the heavy side,” Bull murmured, turning the package over again. “Bottom-heavy.”

Sera snickered.

“Oh, shut up,” Bull said dismissively. He set the package down on the piano since the instrument was close to the door and its lid was closed.

“Fetching His Worship’s letter opener,” Dorian announced.

“Handing His Worship a dagger because it’s easier,” Varric said.

Eilan took the dagger gingerly, eyeing the package uncertainly.

“Go on. It won’t bite you,” Sera insisted.

“Or it will and you’ll die horribly.”

Solas frowned. “Varric.”

“What? There’s basically two options here.”

“I don’t think I want it. Whatever it is,” Eilan murmured, cutting into the cord and unwrapping the brocade. 

Around the gift was a bit of white satin. On top of the satin was a silver card with red ink that read: _Just a little something you ought to wear to the Ball. Come as you are, they say._

Unwrapping the silk, Eilan stared at a very large, very strange mask shaped a bit like a horse or possibly a bull. There was a ring in its metal snout, and when it turned it over, there were flecks of blood clinging to its surface. He dropped it then, hands shaking. It clattered against the piano lid.

No one spoke a for a moment. Then-- “Shit,” Varric murmured. “That is fucked-up.”

Eilan frowned. “What is?”

“Get away from that,” Dorian growled out, pulling Eilan from his spot in front of the piano.

“I don’t… understand.”

“Of course you don’t,” Varric said quietly. “Of course you don’t. I’m sure that’s the point. Cullen will want to see this, Bull.”

Bull’s expression as hostile, his nostril flaring slightly as he considered the mask. “Yeah. He will. And the ladies will too.”

“I’ll get him.”

Bull just nodded.

Eilan frowned. “But… It’s just a mask. A bit creepy, mind you but...”

Sera rolled her eyes. “Don’t you get it?” she asked, sounding irritated. “It’s what his lot put on you lot. Even I know that.”

“His lot?”

“Your big ‘un. The grey people.”

“...I don’t understand.”

“They take this and they--”

“Not you,” Bull said in a low, menacing rumble. “You don’t get to tell him.”

“Alright, but you’ll have to tell him then, won’t you? Else he’ll figure it out. He isn’t simple. Not for long, I mean. He’s the Inquisitor and all.”

Bull swallowed hard, not saying anything all in reply.

“Perhaps I can explain,” Dorian said quietly. “Eilan, you will recall I’ve mentioned Saarebas and Bas Saarebas.”

“Mages,” Eilan said.

“And you will recall some of the conditions in which they are kept. But you have not been told about all of it.”

Eilan shook his head as horrifying possibilities occurred to him. “No. No, Dorian, that’s not… Please, Dorian, this isn’t...”

The Tevinter mage regarded him sadly, eyes focused but soft. “I’m afraid that it… Kaffas, I can’t. He really has no idea. Not truly.”

“This is what Saarebas wear,” Bull said, sounding strangely distant. “Over sewn eyes and sewn lips, they wear a mask. They are not meant to see. They are not meant to speak. To each we give an Arvaarad who will protect us from their evil. That is what Dorian should say. That is what my people do.”

“They’re no longer your people,” Dorian said quietly.

“Should that make it any better?” Bull asked, still staring at the mask. “Because I don’t see how it does.”

“What’s going on?” Cullen asked from behind them. “Varric said… Maker have mercy what is that doing here?”

Eilan closed his eyes, feeling ill.

“Leave this to the others, da’len,” Solas said, steering him out of the room. 

*

The fresh air helped marginally. Solas tugged Eilan gently along until they were at the battlements. No one spoke to them, and without looking, Eilan was fairly confident Solas had dealt with anyone so much as seeming interested. The elf had long since perfected a foreboding look that intimidated most people, and he managed an air of indifference easily enough. 

Eilan sank down to his knees on the stones, resting his head against the wall in front of him.

“All shall be well.”

“But it isn’t well. Not now. At least, not exactly,” Eilan managed. “It isn’t right.”

“No, it is not.”

“Why do people do that? I don’t understand. How can… It would be better to be Tranquil, Solas. To not be born at all. It would be better… How can they do that? He would-- Please, he wouldn’t. I love him, and he wouldn’t.”

“He wouldn’t,” Solas gently agreed. “You don’t need me to say it. You know he would never do that to you.”

Eilan clutched at the dragon tooth around his neck. “I love him, Solas, and I’m going to love him long after that mask is gone. And I...”

“If you love him, then you love him,” Solas calmly suggested. “Love him if it helps you for you must continue to be as you are. Da’len... This is painful, but this is why you are so important. Those before you have led you to this point. Surana. Hawke. Anders. Dangerous or harmless, good or bad... Mages must be seen as more than cattle to be branded or mutilated. Eventually the lesson will stick. Until then it falls to you and me and those like us to repeat history. Until they have no choice but to see us. No recourse but to hear us.”

“But how many of us will suffer until then? How many of us have… How can anyone… How can anyone believe in anything at all, Solas?”

“Because of you. I know it is frightening, but people believe in you. The majority will need the Maker or Andraste to guide them to goodness, but they will seek that virtue out. As they seek you out.”

“What do I get to believe in?” Eilan asked, fighting back a sob. “What do mages get? What do those Saarebas ever get? What does the boy I was-- the one that they killed-- what does he ever get? What am I doing here if it doesn’t get those people anything at all?”

“You are in the process of getting all that your people require. As for the boy, they didn’t kill him, da’len. They buried him alive for a time, but he lives still. You are him. What he gets-- What you get is to be yourself.”

“I want that.”

“Then allow yourself to have what you want.”

Eilan nodded hesitantly.

Solas crouched down beside him. He set a warm hand on Eilan’s back and spoke directly into his ear. “There are people inside who love you. There are people inside that you love. They will not come here to you for they know what they are - reminders of everything that’s ever hurt you. A handful of months ago, they would not have cared. Now they do. Every second of every day, they care and they regret. The beliefs they held dear slip away and shift into something new, Eilan. You have changed them. They will never again be what they were before they met you. They are yours now. You must keep that which you have changed.”

“I want to have people. I want to change people for the better. I want to be loved, but...”

“You are afraid,” Solas said, his tone kind and understanding. “You are afraid because it has been demanded of you. You have been told to always be afraid. You were taught that to want or need anything is to invite the demons to your side. But you are not the one summoning demons. You never have been, and yet you are afraid of what you can do. Your abilities are a responsibility you did not ask for. It is not a power that you craved. One wishes that more powerful people were as you are, but they are not.”

“Then… What should I do?”

“You have a choice, it would seem. If you stay here, they cannot do anything to you. If you go to them, they can do everything. And it will not matter what you are but that you are. Will you forsake all that you could have because of a mask?”

“No, but I can’t... Solas, I can’t… It’s all just too much and I keep thinking it’ll work and I don’t know...”

“Shh,” Solas said, pulling him into his arms. “You can. You can and you will, but you need not do so right now.”

*

Eilan dreamt of old forests, trees illuminated by the purple and red sky at sunset. Three pale blue wisps were glowing and gliding over rivers. All they could be was all that they were: a single thought. Peace. Quiet. Happiness.

He woke up slowly, curling into the arms that were wrapped tightly around him. “Cullen?”

“Hm?” Cullen opened his eyes. “Yes, my love?”

“Where’s Bull?”

“Here.”

Eilan looked over to the couch. Bull was leaning forward, hands together and features stony. “You’re awfully far away.”

“Yeah,” the Qunari said, sounding glum. “Thinking.”

“Think here,” Eilan said, patting the empty side of the mattress.

“If you need a break from that--”

“I most certainly do not need a break from either one of you. Come here and hold me this instant.”

Cullen laughed. “Maker, but you are bossy at times.”

“I am,” Eilan admitted.

Bull rose slowly to his feet and trudged over. “You sure?”

“I think the mask upset all of us but… I love you. And I love Cullen. So I am quite sure.”

“All right.” Bull got back into bed. He sat against the headboard and tugged Eilan with him. The mage yawned, climbing into the Qunari’s lap. After a beat or two, Bull sighed shakily into Eilan’s hair, presumably when he thought the human wouldn’t notice.

“What have you been thinking about?” Eilan asked.

“You. That piece of shit mask. And you some more. Are you all right?”

“Yes,” Eilan said. He kissed Bull gently. Then he kissed Cullen sweetly once the Commander joined them. “Very. So... The piece of shit mask…”

“Obviously we’re meant to assume Qunari,” Cullen murmured, “and of course it isn’t.”

“No?”

“Not with a note like that. And…” Bull sighed. “There would have been at least one messenger. So let’s just say they wouldn’t send a mask and leave it at that.”

Eilan stroked Bull’s nose and then his horns. “Let’s.”

“Orlesians?” Cullen asked.

Bull set a hand against the small of Eilan’s back, glancing at the other human beside him. “A bit much, but possible.”

“Tevinter?”

“The most likely source, but that doesn’t mean it is.”

Eilan sighed. “Poor Dorian if it is.”

Cullen raised an eyebrow. “...poor Dorian?”

Eilan smiled, leaning over and stroking Cullen’s hair. “This is all very hard on him. Every time we hear anything else about his homeland, it is a terrible and beastly mess with an ample helping of nightmare and red lyrium sprinkled on top.”

“Save for Magister Tilani and the Archon’s love of cats.”

“Save for her and for the cats, yes.” Eilan leaned his head against Bull’s broad shoulder. “Um. There’s something I should say.”

“Feel free, sweetheart," Cullen suggested.

Eilan reluctantly looked up at both men. “I know I left before anything can be resolved and I shouldn’t have. I know I can’t go to pieces every time this happens and--”

“You can go to pieces whenever you like and wherever you like, kadan. What you can't do is fucking apologize for it,” Bull growled out. “It's bad enough without you blaming yourself for this shit.”

Cullen nodded. “Quite right. As for going to pieces… I think most of us would have needed a moment if that had been sent to any of us. Even without that note. You left and vented to Solas as far as I can tell. There’s nothing very unusual about that.”

Eilan smiled, feeling relieved and a little hopeful. “I see. Um. Thank you. How did I get back here anyway?”

Cullen laughed. “Solas carried you back here.”

“And lectured us,” Bull put in.

“Really?” Eilan asked Cullen.

“I would hardly call it a lecture. He told us some of what occurred then offered some sage advice, which was to stay with you and talk to you when you woke up. Before that, we were, both of us, having a difficult time of it.”

Eilan frowned. “Oh.”

“He said good things,” Bull assured him. “That’s why I was doing my thinking on the couch and not at the bottom of a keg.”

“Well, that’s something.”

“There wouldn’t have been any wallowing in a keg either,” Cullen said scornfully. “I’d have made Bull stay, sweetheart.There were concerns, nothing more. As you can see, we managed until you returned. So Solas brought you home, and Mother Giselle has claimed yet another victim.”

Bull snorted. “For a busybody, that woman sure is blind.”

“What’s going on?”

“You haven’t heard?” Bull asked. “Geez, doesn’t anyone tell you anything?”

“Heard what?”

“About your harem.”

Eilan laughed in surprise. “My what?”

“You’re doing everyone in Skyhold.”

“That is not the rumor, and you know it,” Cullen scolded, but he looked amused.

“Fine. It’s like this. Mother Giselle believes that Dorian seduces you nightly and that you spend all your time with him and that he is a corrupting influence. She corners him in the library daily and pleads for your soul.”

“...she does not.”

Cullen laughed loudly before blushing. “Maker no, but she does ask him to leave you be. To release the Herald from the temptations of the flesh.”

Eilan shook his head. “How am I spending all of my time with Dorian when I’m always with Bull or with you? Or both of you? I mean, Bull has carried me off in front of her.”

“Several times,” Bull agreed with a small smile. “We should do that again and make a big production of it.”

“A production?”

“Yeah, I’ll cackle or something.”

“The poor woman would faint dead away.”

“Yeah. Maybe not then.”

Eilan moved out of Bull’s arms so he could curl up in Cullen’s. Bull’s knuckles brushed along Eilan’s back, gently going up and then down again along the curve of his spine.

Eilan let his eyes close. He had a tendency to drift from man to man mostly because he hated the thought that either one might feel less wanted than the other. And it seemed a little presumptuous to make the other two curl up closer together. Although he had noticed that they were ending up more in the middle of the bed with one another than in separate parts of it.

“Well, the good news is she’ll give up on Dorian for a time. Poor man,” Cullen said, sounding cheerful. “No telling what she’ll say about Solas.”

“The other upshot of this is you get another person to blame when things go wrong,” Bull pointed out.

Eilan huffed out a laugh, opening his eyes. “Right, of course. Because I blame so many people around here for that.”

“Well, now you can tell her his shiny bald head made you do it.”

Eilan just rolled his eyes. “So what did I miss then?”

“Oh, everyone’s worrying and then going off to sort out how they felt. Red’s looking into the mask right now. We might have some answers soon, we might not. And Cole’s amulet got here.”

“All of which will keep until tomorrow,” Cullen promised, kissing Eilan’s hair.

“It’ll have to,” Eilan agreed. “I’m not moving.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Work got hectic so apologies for this chapter not going up earlier.
> 
> I haven't been able to get any writing in lately. Feeling a bit out of sorts and stressed. But the next update should be on Friday.


	32. Chapter 32

*

Unfortunately, when Eilan was finally able to present it to him, the amulet did not work at all on Cole. Solas tried, of course, holding his hand out and imbuing the amulet’s charm with a purple magic. But it didn’t take. Instead there was a brief flash of light that caused Cole to yelp.

“Something is interfering with the enchantment.”

Varric, who had wandered in after the spell had been attempted, crossed his arms. “Something like Cole not being a demon?”

“Well, he really isn’t a demon,” Eilan pointed out. “He’s a spirit and even then… Solas, is it possible that the amulet doesn’t work on Cole because he’s too human?”

"Regardless of Cole's special circumstances, he remains a spirit."

Yes," Varric said. "A spirit who is strangely like a person."

"Or maybe it is just that spirits aren't that different. Or that none of this is as black and white as might be wished by others? I mean, can't it be a combination of those two things?"

"I don't matter," Cole insisted. "Just lock away the parts of me that someone else could knot together to make me follow."

"But that's just it, Cole," Eilan said. "If you're a person in addition to everything else, then it wouldn't be as easy as you think for someone to do that. That someone would also have to somehow get past me, Solas, Varric, and Bull to get to you."

"Focus on the amulet," Solas added. "What do you feel?"

Cole lowered his head. "Warm, soft blanket covering, but it catches, tears. It's not like the barrier he gave me. I'm the wrong shape, there's something... Something I need to find."

"Then let's find it," Eilan offered.

“Work with Cullen,” Varric said to Cole. “You can use a map and figure out where it is that you’re sensing something wrong.”

“Will you come with me?” Cole asked. “All of you?”

“Sure.”

Cole nodded hesitantly. He left the room without looking at any of them.

“All right,” Varric said, approaching Solas. “I get it. You like spirits. But he came into this world to be a person. Let him be one.”

“Cole clearly needs our help. If he wants to remain as he is, then I’d like to find a way to allow him to. If he wishes to continue on the path he’s on then I’ll help him too. But whatever it is he ultimately opts to be… That is entirely up to him,” Eilan pointed out. “I won’t have any of us sabotaging this for him. It’s too important.”

“I think I know that a little better than you do.”

Eilan’s eyes narrowed as he considered the dwarf. There was much he was willing to overlook, but the overprotective counterproductiveness that Solas and Varric both seemed eager to engage in was rapidly testing his patience.

“I think you may wish to choose your words more carefully,” Solas said. “Recall to whom it is you speak to, Varric.”

“Sorry,” Varric muttered. “Look. I’m not saying we do nothing. But that ritual only works on demons, right?”

“This is not some fanciful story, child of stone,” Solas said, his tone stern and haughty. “We cannot change our nature by wishing it.”

Varric inclined his head towards Eilan. “You don’t think?”

“Is everything he has been through really so miraculous that we can forget how hard it was for Eilan to regain himself? There is suffering and anguish in change even if it helps us become who we are meant to be. There is pain ahead for Cole if you make him human. Will you stay with him? Will you be there if he does something you would not? Or will it be left to me? I suspect we all know what you will do. You will--”

“Enough,” Eilan insisted. “Please. Enough. It doesn’t have to be like that for Cole, and Varric isn’t doing this to hurt him. He isn’t, Solas.”

The other mage’s eyes softened minutely. “But he still could, da’len. What we want and what we do are not often the same.”

“What you want isn’t necessarily what Cole wants. And for the record, how dare you act like somehow you’re any better than me?” Varric growled out, crossing his arms again. “Do you really think you’re any more reliable than I am? Because you’re not. And you’re not the only one who kept watch over Eilan or tried to help him. I did plenty. And Cullen was the one who came in every night and held him until he stopped crying. So don’t you--”

“Please stop,” Eilan tried again, looking away from them. He was start to wish he’d followed Cole out instead. “Varric... Solas… Can we not do this? Can’t we just assume this will work out better than the amulet has? Can’t we just decide that all that matters is Cole being less miserable?”

“We can,” Solas decided after a moment’s hesitation. “However we deal with the problem, our next step is to track down whatever is interfering with the enchantment.”

*

Eilan left them after that. He debated joining Cole or Cullen before deciding he really wasn’t in the mood to see where he needed to go next. Instead, he went to the stables to feed his mounts, more specifically his harts. They enjoyed treats and they’d nuzzle his hands with their soft noses. And they didn’t seem to need much from him. And they didn’t require explanations for his sudden fretfulness.

“Fuck, but you’re hard to find sometimes.”

“Hello, Bull.”

“Hello. Been looking for you for half an hour.”

“Sorry.”

“Do you have some kind of weird spell that you use?”

“Weird spell?”

“Like one that kicks in when you’re upset somewhere that I’m not? One that makes me drop everything I’m doing and find you because you need someone to cuddle you or something?”

“I wish.”

Bull moved over to him until they were standing next to one another. “Maybe it’s just when you’re out of my sight for too long, I feel like I gotta track you down. You done staring at that bucket there? I’m starting to get jealous.”

Eilan glanced up at last, managing a shaky smile.

“Definitely a weird spell. What’s going on?”

“The amulet didn’t work on Cole. And now Solas wants him to be a spirit. And now Varric wants him to be human. And I just want him to be happy.”

Bull grunted. He set a large hand on Eilan’s shoulder. “Hey, I know this sucks because you’re… Well, basically you’re incapable of being selfish for long. But that’s actually what they want too. They really want Cole to be happy.”

“Do they?”

“Look at it this way, Cole would know, wouldn’t he? That kid’s a lot of things but he’s not stupid. He’ll give everyone a fair shake, sure, but he doesn’t spend time with people who don’t like him or don’t want him around.”

“That’s true.”

“Look, both of those assholes care about Cole _and_ you. Trust me. They just both think they know what Cole’s happiness ought to consist of. You never think you know the answer to someone else’s problem. You just do everything you can to help ‘em find the solution. It’s actually, believe it or not, what makes you such a good leader.”

“Having no idea as to what I’m doing makes me a good leader?”

Bull laughed. “Nah. That’s just part of your charm. What I was talking about is your willingness to accept, adapt, and grow.”

“Oh. Then. Thank you.”

Bull kissed his cheek. “You’re welcome. Do you need to talk more?”

“I’d like more kisses, if you don’t mind."

Bull happily complied, picking Eilan up and nuzzling his neck when he was done.

“Wouldn’t you rather hit me with a stick?”

“No, kadan, I would not. I’m never hitting you with anything, just so you know.”

Eilan brushed his fingers over Bull’s nose then his horns before tugging lightly on the dragon tooth necklace his Qunari had on. “I thought being hit upside the head helped.”

“It helps big guys like me. Guys like you need a softer touch but, hey, that’s a good thing. And, since I haven’t said anything ridiculous to you in awhile, I want you to know something.”

“You love me madly?”

“Well, sure, but also, and this is important, I’d destroy any stick that came near you.”

Eilan laughed. “You’d render any suspicious stick to pieces with your bare hands?”

“I could do it. I’m pretty strong.”

“I’m sure you could, dear.”

“Hm,” Bull nuzzled Eilan’s neck, nipping lightly until the human moaned quietly. “Want me to go with?”

“Go with?”

“I know how this works. You get presented with an issue, the issue gets complicated, and then you have to go to eight different locations before its resolved. So there’s definitely somewhere you’ll have to go before Cole can make his important life-altering decision. I’d like to go with.”

“I’d like that too.” Not only because the Qunari cared about the "squirrelly kid," but if decisions had to be made that the elf or dwarf did not like, they'd have to contend with... Well, they'd have to contend with his lover. It probably was unfair, and it certainly was a ridiculous notion, but at the moment Eilan didn’t mind.

“Good. I’ll bring the stick for our dwarf and elf friends.”

Eilan chuckled. “Right. Because that wouldn’t end in an epic disaster for the Inquisition.”

“Must you do whatever this is in my stables?” Blackwall called out from the other side of a wooden wall.

“It’s called talking,” Bull yelled back. “It’s what people do together. For fun. You’ve heard of fun, right?”

“Get lost, will you? I’m trying to get some work done.”

“Uh huh. Work, my ass,” Bull muttered. “Sleeping off a night of drinking and losing at Diamondback seems more likely, but fine,” he called back. “We’ll go.”

“He spends far too much time on his own,” Eilan said sadly as they left the barn behind.

Bull had set him down by this point, but he ruffled Eilan’s hair. “I think he likes it that way, kadan.”

“That’s not good.” 

“No?”

Eilan shook his head. “He’s alone so much. I think he likes Josephine...”

“He does. Dunno if she knows that.”

“And if she knew?”

“Hard to say. Sometimes liking someone doesn’t result in getting them, sometimes it does.” Bull sighed. “What’s wrong now?”

“It’s just… It’s worked out twice for me and... I think I’m a lot more selfish than you’d have me believe.”

“Nah. Me and Cullen? If lovers are the only thing you’re selfish about, might as well have two.”

“Dorian said that.”

“Shit. Then he’s right. The world’s fucking coming to an end any minute now.”

*

Of all the things Eilan had been expecting to find, the man who had murdered Cole was not one of them. He certainly hadn’t known what to think or how to react. Even as they discussed the situation, he still didn’t know and he felt that he understood even less. And so he was paralyzed with indecision even as Cole stormed away. The spirit was growing more and more determined to kill the templar out of a desire for a well-deserved revenge.

"It seems the real Cole was an apostate,” Solas said gently, “captured and taken to the Circle by templars."

“Who aren't known for their gentle nature," Varric added.

"As the young man starved to death in a dungeon, his pain caught the attention of a spirit... Like one of Compassion.”

“Compassion?”

“An uncommon spirit, certainly... and all too fragile, when its efforts to help proved to be in vain.”

He should have known what to do, but he didn’t. Eilan’s chest ached as he glanced at Cole. Then he looked back to where Bull was watching all of them, leaning against a tree. He’d been good and smart enough to agree to keep out of the way, but he’d refused to stay behind when they’d set out.

“This shouldn’t be up to me," Eilan pointed out. "I can’t decide for him.”

“A choice _must_ be made,” Solas pointed out, “and soon.”

Eilan sighed heavily, leaving them and approaching Cole.

“I don’t know how spirits work. Not the way Solas does, but I know how much it hurts when you can’t save someone, when you can’t save yourself. Whatever happens with that man, it won’t change what happened to you.”

Cole sighed quietly. “Then what do I do?”

“What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know. Solas wants and Varric wants and you… You don’t want. You don’t want anything for me. Not the way they do.”

“I want something. I want for you to be happy being you, Cole. I just... I guess I don’t know what you are," Eilan admitted. "You seem to be both human and a spirit. Maybe you ought to pick one, maybe you shouldn’t. But I don’t think you need to. I think I like you as you are. I know it’s difficult, but I think you’re in far less danger and pose far less of a threat than you think. You’re not a demon, and you’re not only a spirit. You’re Cole, and Cole is fine the way he is.”

“Like Bull.”

“Like Bull. Like Solas. Like Varric. Like everyone else at Skyhold.”

“You aren’t pleased with Solas or Varric.”

“Perhaps not. We don’t have to tell them that though.”

“That man… There is nothing I can do to him that will help me, is there?”

“It’s hard to know, but you ought to speak with him on your own. You should be the one to decide for yourself what you do and why. You are many things, but you aren’t a small child, Cole. I don’t think you are as confused as everyone seems to think -- as I used to think. And you have every right to do as you see fit. I’ve done as much for the many of the others we travel and work with. I want to do the same for you. So that’s what I’ve decided. It’s up to you, Cole, and only to you.”

Eilan touched Cole’s arm, blinking a bit when the other man hugged him. “We’re going to head back to Skyhold,” he decided. You’re to come find us when you’re done. Because whatever you are, whatever you decide, you are my friend.”

“And you are mine.”

“Promise to come back then. To Skyhold.”

“I promise,” Cole said, squeezing Eilan’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

Eilan nodded, smiling as best he could before he turned away. He knew Cole would be gone if he looked back, but he didn’t. He kept walking to the others.

“So... What are we doing?” Varric asked.

“We’re leaving.”

Solas frowned. “How can we--”

“We can because we all care about Cole, and part of caring for someone else is trusting them. Respecting them.”

Varric frowned as well. “You have no idea what the kid will do.”

“You’re right, and I don’t mind not knowing. Varric. Solas. I don’t wish to upset either of you, but it is wrong to only accept someone if they choose as you would choose. I don’t know very much, we can all agree on that, but I know that I’ve benefited greatly from letting go of a need to control others or to base my evaluations of them on one characteristic. You both accepted Cole before I did, and you mean a great deal to him. So let him find a way to be happy. Please.”

“And what is it that will make him happy? Humans and spirits are not one and the same,” Solas insisted.

“I don’t believe that,” Eilan insisted. “I don’t believe there is such a monumental difference between us. Whether he’s human or a spirit, Cole is a person. He is my friend. He has a warm, nurturing heart that I wish to protect just as much as anyone else here, but he has to be willing to do the same for himself or it won’t matter what he decides. He is the one, the only person, who can determine what he becomes. Then he will return to us, and whatever he is when he comes back, he will be Cole.”

He gently touched the dwarf’s shoulder and then the elf’s before he left them.

“I love you a lot,” Bull said quietly, catching up with him began walking. “They’re coming along. Slowly.” The Qunari chuckled. “You should have seen the looks on their faces. I think you confused the fuck right out of them.”

“I only hope I didn’t upset them too much, but... maybe it’ll help? Being confused, I mean.”

“How’s that?”

“I’m beginning to think that the only time I know anything is when I’m willing to admit that I know nothing at all.” Eilan wasn’t sure how that statement warranted being scooped up into a very warm hug, but he didn’t mind.

“You make being a Tal-Vashoth almost worthwhile, kadan.”

Eilan kissed Bull’s cheek and smiled. “I’m glad.”

*

It took the better part of a week, but Cole returned. He didn’t announce his presence in any real way. As the sun was setting, suddenly there he was on the battlements, peering over the edge before moving away from it. Eilan let Varric and Solas greet him. Then some of the others. He waited until they left Cole, and by then the sun was gone. The sky was littered with stars and the Keep was fairly still.

“Are you doing all right?” Eilan asked gently, sitting down next to him. He handed the spirit a mug of hot chocolate. “I missed you, you know, and I thought you might be cold out here. Or that you’d like this at least.”

Cole took the drink hesitantly, sniffing the mug’s contents before sipping it. “Yes,” he decided, “I like this, and yes. I am well.”

“Oh good. Shall I put up another barrier for you?”

Cole peered out at him from under his hat, but it was too dark to see what sort of expression the spirit had. “No. Sit. You being here will be enough. It is all enough. I missed you too.”

Eilan joined Cole, smiling at him. “All right, but let me know if you need one or if you need anything else. I’d like to help, if I can.”

For awhile they sat there, quietly drinking and not saying much. Eilan glanced up at the stars, identifying the occasional constellation to Cole whenever he was able to recognize one.

When he finished his hot chocolate, Cole set a hand over Eilan’s. “Gentle. You watch me walk into darkness over and over, and you always worry. Thank you.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is going up late. It's been a less than great week, to be honest. I've spent a lot of it feeling really down and reading Regency Romance novels. 
> 
> This chapter was one of the most difficult ones I've written and it caused me no end of angst. I had no idea, really, where to take things with Cole and trying to decide if he should become more of a spirit or more human was really frustrating to me. Particularly when adding Solas and Varric to the mix. They mean well and I love both characters, but both of them have a hidden agenda and motive.
> 
> Bakaknight helped me think things through as I was panicking, and I like how the chapter turned out. Tigercule pointed out the ending was a bit abrupt. I don't think she's wrong, but I don't think I can add anything. I feel like it ends right where it needs to.
> 
> The next update will be next week, but I couldn't tell you the exact day because I need to get writing in order to get posting. Hopefully sometime before Wednesday?


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few quiet moments primarily with Cullen.

*

The stables were still a source of comfort. He enjoyed visiting his mounts and making sure the new additions were settling in carefully. He had just finished grooming the Bog Unicorn and trying out a new tonic on its sword horn, which was rusting a bit, when he finally noticed Cullen was watching him.

“Hello,” Eilan said, noting that his Commander was wearing considerably less armor than he usually did around the Keep.

“Hello, sweetheart. You know, this is the first time in a long that you’ve been right where I wanted you to be.”

Eilan smiled, washing his hands before coming over to Cullen and kissing him soundly. Although he had seen the Commander virtually every day, it still sometimes felt like he barely saw him at all. “I’ve been running around a lot lately. I’m sorry.”

“Yes, well, we have some time before the ball, and so I’d like to make good on… Well, it wasn’t exactly a threat. A promise? An offer?” Cullen shrugged. “Either way, I’d like to have you to myself for the better part of a week.”

“Here or…?”

“Somewhere else. So much has been happening, and you have been running about the place non-stop of late.”

Eilan sighed, liking the idea of a break, and feeling terribly guilty. He ought to have been more dedicated to the cause, but at the moment the cause seemed never-ending. “I don’t know that there’s time.”

“I discussed the matter with Josephine and Leliana, and it seems like we won’t be heading out to Orlais for at least a fortnight yet. I feel, and they agree, that you won’t do well at Halamshiral without a few moments of peace and quiet. Not to mention… We haven’t even had time to discuss what you went through in Emprise du Lion.”

Eilan ducked his head, letting Cullen hug him. He found it difficult to meet his gaze. “I’d rather not discuss it.”

“No?”

“No, I’ve… I’ll be more careful next time.”

Cullen snorted, and pulled away.

Eilan looked up.

“Do you really think… I’m hardly seeking to scold you, sweetheart,” Cullen gently explained. “I’m merely concerned. Between that and the mask...”

“Then can we talk about it later? I don’t… It’s not that I don’t want to talk to you, but it's hard to discuss any of it.”

“And if Bull hadn’t been there, you wouldn’t have wanted to talk to him about it either,” Cullen said, setting a hand on Eilan’s shoulder. “I understand.”

“I know,” Eilan admitted, putting a hand over Cullen’s. “I do know that.”

“Then we won’t talk about, but you’ll come with me?”

“I’ll come with you.”

“Good because I already packed for you and I told everyone else you were going with. Presumptuous of me, but… I couldn’t help myself, I’m afraid.”

Eilan smiled. “Are we off on an operation then?”

“We have some dealings in Ferelden, yes. One of the resource-gathering ones,” Cullen said with a small, hopeful smile of his own. “And we can really gather up herbs if you like.”

“Among other things?”

“I should hope so.”

Eilan insisted on saying goodbye to Bull, but he trusted that everything else was in order. He also suspected if he mentioned the trip to most of his companions, they’d come up with additional needs or requests. As much as he liked helping them, he felt he was owed some sort of break at least.

Therefore he supposed it wasn’t too surprising that his own interest in discussing his literal or figurative demons was non-existent. But he couldn’t not discuss the matter with Cullen, and it occurred to him that the one pleasant side-effect of being busy was that the opportunity hadn’t come up.

He let Cullen help him onto the hart, and then waited, fingers twitching against the reins as Cullen to get onto his courser.

For a time, they rode in silence that started off companionable before quickly becoming strained.

“It’s all right,” Cullen said, glancing over at Eilan. “I meant what I said. I understand, and I can promise you that I’m not waiting until we find the proper clearing or glade to try asking about it again.”

“But it’s… It’s almost like leaving you out of it altogether. I don’t want to do that.”

“I just wish I’d been there, that’s all. I left you days before that happened. I shouldn’t have.”

“We managed the demon better than we would have managed those dragons.”

“I suppose.”

Eilan looked down at the grass path and his mount’s hooves. “If it helps… I remembered you and Bull. I knew he wasn’t who I wanted to be with.”

“Only if it helped you.”

Eilan glanced up. “It did.”

Cullen smiled reassuringly. “Then it helps me a great deal.”

They rode for the better part of the day, arriving in a sleepy quiet town all but engulfed in a thick mist. Steering around the outskirts, they arrived at a small cabin near a lake.

“We’re staying here?” Eilan asked, coloring slightly when Cullen helped him down from his hart. “You know, I really can do that myself.”

Cullen smiled, setting Eilan down. “I won’t do it when we’re in Orlais, but I can do it when we’re alone.”

“Still, it’s a bit silly, don’t you think?”

Cullen just shrugged, leading the hart into a small stable and getting him settled next to the courser. Their packs were on the cabin’s front porch and Eilan waited for Cullen on a small set of steps.

“Is this yours?”

“My family’s,” Cullen admitted. “I grew up not too far from here. Shall I give you a tour, Your Worship?”

Eilan laughed. “A tour? Of the what? The one and a half rooms available?”

“Three, thank you very much.”

“I suppose so-- What are you…” Eilan sighed heavily as he was unceremoniously tossed over one of Cullen’s shoulders. He laughed, rolling his eyes as they headed for the cabin. “Vivienne was right. I have a type.”

“More than likely,” Cullen cheerfully agreed. “Although I imagine I won’t carry you around as long as Bull.”

“No?”

“No, although I’m gathering you protest solely to seem a good deal less interested than you are.”

“I… Yes, well,” Eilan managed, slightly flustered by the observation. “Being held is very nice.”

“Maybe I’ll just show you one room then. If memory serves, the other two are terribly dull.”

*

All in all, the one bedroom was a lovely place to begin and end a tour. The bed was not quite as large as the one back in his quarters, but it wasn’t bad. And the only reason they had to leave it was for robes, blankets, and firewood. Or, to be more specific, Cullen left the bed to fetch those things. Eilan remained where he was, laying on his back and watching him.

After putting the bed to better use, they had a small meal of toasted cheese and grapes.

“I can hunt for something better,” Cullen suggested. Then he brought their packs in, setting them down in a corner. “Later.”

“That would-- What’s that?” Eilan asked.

“What’s what?”

Eilan pointed at Cullen’s pack. “Something blue and sea-green. Maybe socks?”

“Oh that. It’s a bit of stress relief. I thought if nothing else, I could show it to you and you’d find it amusing. It’s… a bit...sad-looking.”

Eilan smiled. “Let’s see it then.”

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, but he took out what seemed like a slightly misshapen lump of wool. He unfolded it, and really they did look a bit like socks only larger and narrower. The designs weren’t bad. The finished one had the Inquisition eye in sea-green on a blue background. The one he was working on had the start of what seemed like a small templar sword.

“Aw,” Eilan said, charmed by the strange things. “I didn’t realize you knew how to knit.”

“Yes, well, I haven’t done it in quite some time, but it’s soothing.”

“How did you get the different colors?”

“Well, my sister dyed the wool and sent the yarn to me. A peace-offering, I suppose. I told her how much you’d liked the socks.”

“No, I meant… there’s more than one color.”

“Oh, that. It’s just intarsia,” Cullen said with a shrug. “Some patterns call for one than one color, and these designs weren’t hard to replicate.”

“Well, I like these.” He hoped they weren’t supposed to be scarves though because then he’d have to laugh. As it was, it looked like they’d barely fit around the neck of a nug or a fennec.

“These being?”

“I, um… I’m not sure.”

Cullen smirked, sitting down on the end of the bed. “Take a guess.”

Eilan sat up and joined him. “Hats for um...a very small person. Like...a gnome?”

“Right, because I completely forgot to tell you about the family of gnomes that joined the Inquisition.”

Eilan couldn’t help laughing at that. “I suppose…” He inspected the finished one again. “Are they puppets? Is there going to be a mage-themed one and a little deformed Corypheus as well?”

Cullen snorted. “I’m just going to tell you now, and you’re not to laugh.”

“I won’t laugh. After all, I managed to guess that they were gnome hats and puppets while keeping a straight face.”

“They’re…” Cullen sighed, blushing slightly. “Very well. They’re horn-warmers.”

“Why would… Oh.” Eilan smiled, putting his arms around Cullen. “That is so sweet,” he said, kissing Cullen’s cheek. “And very considerate. And sort of adorable.”

“Hardly,” Cullen insisted, but he pulled Eilan closer, kissing him back. “There is a practical component to it.”

Eilan kissed Cullen’s lips. “Hm. Is there?”

“Yes. You’re always so worried about Bull getting cold and it’s probably better he avoids getting sick so he can look after you properly.”

“That’s still painfully sweet,” Eilan insisted, nipping at Cullen’s jawline and then his neck. “And perfect of you.”

“This is a bit better than the reaction I expected.”

“Oh? Then… Do I get socks when Bull’s are done?”

Cullen sighed heavily, affecting a fairly put-upon expression. “And there it is -- the typical reaction to learning someone you love can knit.”

“You’ll still make me socks.”

“I’ll make you socks,” Cullen said in a mock-threatening tone, taking his current project and tossing it gently in the direction of their packs. “For now I’ll have to find better ways of warming you up.”

*

Hours later, Eilan startled awake, blinking up at Cullen. He seemed to be smiling, but it was hard to tell exactly in dim candlelight. “Is…it morning?”

“Yes, albeit very early,” Cullen said. “I thought we ought to try fishing.”

“Isn’t this supposed to be a relaxing break? You should only wake me up if you’re going to chop up more firewood without a shirt on again.”

The Commander laughed. “You’ll feel differently when lunch time rolls around.”

“It’s nowhere near lunch,” Eilan grumbled.

“At least come and support me in this venture.”

“All right.” Eilan sat upright, blinking a bit as he sorted through his pack for something to change into. Thankfully he didn’t need to dress well for fish or for Cullen. At least not when it was barely morning and they were alone.

Changing didn’t take terribly long. He yawned, following Cullen to the docks where the Commander had already set up some blankets and a fishing pole.

He was too tired to keep Cullen from fussing over him so he leaned his head back against the wooden bench, taking in the pastel colors of the sunrise. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d paid much attention to the sky, outside of occasionally glancing up at the Breach.

Cullen checked the fishing line. Then he handed Eilan a small mug of tea and sat down beside him.

“Now what happens?” Eilan asked after a while.

“Now mainly we wait.”

“Oh. Um. Does breakfast still happen?”

“Eventually. We don’t really have much so hopefully oatmeal will suffice.”

Eilan yawned again, leaning his head against Cullen’s shoulder. “Did you bring your knitting?”

Cullen snorted. “To the edge of a pier while I’m fishing for mackerel?”

“Is that what we’re likely to catch?”

“Mackerel or trout. Or bass, I suppose.”

Eilan glanced at the fishing line, blinking at the blue vitrol lure, which was shaped like a small fish and making the water around it glow dark blue. “Is that a rune?”

“Dagna suggested it. I thought you might appreciate us actually catching something.”

“I never make anyone anything.”

Cullen glanced over at him, brushing fingers over Eilan’s cheek. “I hardly think anyone is expecting you to make them anything.”

“But everyone else does; Blackwall, Dagna… You.”

Cullen seemed unimpressed. “That’s a fairly short list, my love. And in Dagna’s case, that’s her job.”

“Well, the others could make things. Or at least the others buy nice, thoughtful gifts for people. I don’t… I don’t do enough of that.”

“You do more than your fair share. And I, for one, am looking forward to a day where you have time to craft something besides potions and armor. It’ll mean we’re finally done with Corypheus and taking some time off from worrying about the fate of Thedas.”

“What am I making you in this highly improbable future?”

Cullen smiled fondly. “You’re making me very happy.”

Eilan blushed before glaring a bit. Mildly, of course. “Cullen.”

“Yes, Eilan?”

“That doesn’t really… All right, it does answer my question, but only technically. And I just worry that what I can give you won’t always be enough for you.”

“I don’t honestly need much. I’ve had so little, and now I have you,” Cullen said, putting an arm around Eilan’s shoulders. “And you have me. I feel like it’s more than I ever expected, and therefore it is quite enough, thank you.”

“I suppose.”

“You need not suppose. It’s simply the truth,” Cullen insisted, pressing a kiss to Eilan’s cheek.

“It just seems odd,” Eilan said, glancing down. He stared hard at his glowing hand first. Then his normal one. Then both of them at the same time. “So much of my life is so very odd.”

“This is what I get for waking you up so early,” Cullen determined with a sigh. “None of that is worth worrying about, Eilan. You do plenty of things for people, and if you’re finding that you’re the recipient of many gifts, it is because people want to do something for you.”

“But I don’t—”

“Sweetheart, it’s like when Cole brings you flowers. One would wish he did so at less inopportune moments,” Cullen said with a faint blush and a scowl, recalling once such recent incident. “But it’s not because he wants you to give him anything. It’s because he wants you to have flowers.”

“Yes, but Cole is lovely and sweet like that. I could get him anything and he would be happy. I could fish out a rock from the bottom of this lake and give it to him and he would treasure it for the rest of his days.”

“I would also settle for a rock,” Cullen insisted. “For two very good reasons.”

“And those are.”

“I suspect that having me respond well would make you less miserable about spontaneous, well-intentioned gift-giving.”

“And?”

“And you broke my last paperweight.”

Eilan smiled. “I certainly did.” It was hardly his fault that the best way to get Cullen to give up on paperwork and assignments was to make him use his desk for other things. Granted, he hadn’t meant to send the paperweight crashing to the stone floor, but he didn’t exactly regret it.

“I wouldn’t give one to Bull. He thinks you carry enough nonsense around.”

“I’m gathering up crafting materials,” Eilan insisted. “I don’t… Oh.” The fishing pole was bending slightly and the lure, which was bobbing under the surface of the water. “I think you might have caught something.”

“I might have,” Cullen murmured but he seemed a bit dubious.

“What’s wrong?”

“The rune is supposed to turn green when…” He sighed as he reeled the line in, nodding unhappy when he was staring at a very old boot. “Well, you were right. I caught something.” He gingerly turned the boot over, examining its worn sole and the hole in its heel that was full of seaweed. “Hm. Do you think Cole would like it?”

Eilan laughed. “I think I’m going to give up on worrying and commission you to make him some socks. Along with the rest of the Inquisition.”

“That’s probably for the best,” Cullen agreed.

*

The rest of the day passed in a quiet fashion once they gave up on fishing. Eilan read and relaxed, Cullen worked on some letters before knitting. He went hunting in the late afternoon returning with a brace of rabbits. Eilan wasn’t willing to skin them but he was willing to make a stew with the root vegetables and other supplies that Cullen had brought.

They went down to the docks after they were done with dinner, there was still a great deal of fog but through it he could still make out the light of fireflies and lanterns from homes across the lake. The placid surface of the water was covered in blood lotuses, cattails, and water lilies.

Eilan closed his eyes briefly, sighing. “It is really nice out here. Quiet.”

“It is. This place was always quiet,” Cullen said gently, putting an arm around Eilan’s waist. “I suppose that after a time, we’d dislike it. Grow restless.”

“Bull might,” Eilan admitted. “He’d be bored to tears out here.”

“Not you?”

“Not me. Not unless I knew that I needed to be other places doing other things. This whole saving the world business is important but everything involved in it is so very busy and so very loud. I wouldn’t mind somewhere where I could hear myself think. So long as the thoughts were kind ones, anyway.”

“I used to come here for that very purpose,” Cullen admitted. “I love my siblings, but they were very loud. I could come here and clear my head.”

“You were happy here.”

“I was. I still am. Perhaps even more so since I’m sharing this quiet spot with you.”

Eilan sighed recalling their previous conversation. He moved closer to Cullen and kissed his cheek. “I don’t know if I say it enough but I’m so glad I have you. Even when you don’t think I ought to be, I’m always grateful to have you with me. Or even when you’re not with me, I can think about you and it helps.”

“We can come back here, if you like. Or we can go other places. Once more is sorted out.”

“After Corypheus.”

“Yes,” Cullen said, threading their fingers together. “You walk into danger every day. I just wanted to take you away from that. If only for a little while.”

“Thank you.”

Cullen leaned over and kissed his hair. “I just wish I could so more often. Perhaps I always will, but… I don’t know if it bothers me the way it had before. I don’t feel lacking. I don’t feel like I’m failing. I just feel like it’s something to strive to improve upon. I’d like to be better. Better at looking after you. And myself because I know you’ll remind me if I don’t. And Bull.”

“I’m surprised you’re doing so well. Without operations and reports and scouts, I mean.”

“I can last a few days. And Leliana will send word if she…” Cullen cleared his throat at the reproachful look he was receiving from Eilan. He took back his hand, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Well, I had to make sure she could find me, didn’t I? It’s not as if I want her to send word, you know.”

“I know,” Eilan said. “Maybe there’s a way we could bring Bull with someday.”

“I suppose I could find it in the Inquisition’s budget to hire a rival mercenary band. We could have them attack us every other day so that Bull has something to do.”

Eilan grinned. “That’s not half-bad, actually. I thought we could tell him there was a dragon that lived in the middle of the lake and that it only came out if everyone was really quiet for a long time.”

“It would never work. He’d spend the whole stay trying to drain the lake so he could find the beast.”

“And he’d make us do the same,” Eilan agreed. “He was really happy about how you dealt with those dragons.”

“We should be able to get to the ones in Emprise du Lion soon enough,” Cullen said with a smirk. “I’m looking forward to it too. And…”

“And?”

“You’re mentioning dragons reminded me. I know we just talked about how people are always giving you things but… I have something for you.”

Eilan sighed. “You do?”

“I do, and it would mean a lot to me if you'd accept. So please hear me out before rejecting it.”

“I would never,” Eilan insisted, kissing Cullen’s cheek. "Tell me about it."

“All right then. The last time I was here was the day I left for templar training. My brother gave me this.” He reached his hand into his pocket and pulled out a silver coin with Andraste’s image on it. “It just happened to be in his pocket. He said it was for luck. Templars aren’t supposed to carry such things.” Cullen glanced up at Eilan. “Our… faith should see us through.”

“Sometimes we need luck.”

“Sometimes it’s all we have,” Cullen agreed. “I should have died during the Blight. Or at Kirkwall. Or Haven. Take your pick. And yet I made it back here. So… humor me, please.” He took Eilan’s hand putting the coin into it, and closing the mage’s fingers around it. “We don’t know what you’ll face before the end. This can’t hurt.”

Eilan blinked a bit, staring down at the coin then up at Cullen. “If it means so much to you then I’ll keep it, of course. But this has kept you safe for a long while. If I take it, what will you have?”

“I’ll have you. I’m pretty sure nothing could keep me safer.”

“I didn’t get you anything.”

“Allow me to direct you to my previous answer.”

“Then I’ll keep it safe,” Eilan managed, wishing he had something to give Cullen even if Cullen didn’t seem to think it was necessary.

“Good,” Cullen murmured, tugging Eilan closer and into his arms. “I know it’s foolish but… I’m glad.”

Eilan stroked a finger over the scar on Cullen’s lips before kissing him. He tugged the Commander closer, pocketing the coin before tugging lightly at Cullen’s lower lip with his teeth. Maybe he couldn’t give him anything besides himself, but if that was what Cullen wanted, that was what he was getting.

*

The ride home was good if a slightly melancholy one. It had been nice to be something other than the Inquisitor for a little while. All the same, he had started to miss Bull. He spent very little time away from Bull as a general rule, and sometimes it was difficult for Eilan to remember what it was like to not to have a Qunari in his life. And while he’d managed and would have managed for many more days besides, it seemed that half a week was probably the longest Eilan could go without pining a bit.

It seemed though that Bull had felt the same way because he was at the entrance to the stables minutes after they’d come through the gate.

Eilan had to keep himself from chuckling when Bull took a moment to seem less eager and more nonchalant. “Oh. Hey, kadan.”

“Hello, love. Fancy meeting you here.”

“Yeah, fancy that,” Bull managed. “Hey, Cullen.”

“Hello, Bull. I’ve got your hart, Eilan, you can go on ahead.”

“I dunno if I want Eilan if you’re keeping his hart with you,” Bull said with a small smirk. “The Inquisitor’s not much use to me without it.”

Cullen made a face. “Maker’s sake... I did not miss your puns.”

“Yeah, you did.”

Cullen rolled his eyes, but he smiled when Eilan kissed him. Then he moved away, leading both of the mounts back towards their stalls.

Bull leaned down and pulled Eilan into a gentle but insistent kiss. “Hello again.”

“Hello.”

There were several more kisses after that, but eventually they headed for Eilan’s quarters. Not so much because they needed a great deal of privacy but because really it was nice to have some time alone.

“You weren’t gone long, right?” Bull murmured once they were in his room. The Qunari yawned, stretching and moving to sit on the couch.

“Three days or thereabouts. Nearly four, I suppose.”

“Felt a lot longer. Come here.”

Eilan smiled, only too eager to crawl into Bull’s lap and let the larger man toy with his hair. He curled up against the Qunari, resting a head against one shoulder and stroking Bull’s nose with one hand.

“Did you have fun?”

“Yes.”

“What did you do?”

“Talked. Fished. Um. Relaxed. Enjoyed each other’s company. You should come with next time.”

“Yeah? Any particular reason?”

Eilan smiled, lightly touching Bull’s horns. “I missed you and… I don’t know. It would be nice to go. We’d be together without any of this going on. For a little while, I mean.”

“I like most of this,” Bull pointed out. “Without this, I wouldn’t even have you. I get what you’re saying though. I’m not sure hanging out in the middle of nowhere is my kind of thing, kadan, but I’d give it a try.”

“What if I tell you there’s a giant monstrous water dragon living in the lake?”

“Are you going to tell me that?”

“I thought about it.”

Bull snorted. “Uh huh. Aban-atasshi wouldn’t be anywhere nearby, kadan. I doubt one could even fit in the lake. And if one could, I wouldn’t let you visit it again.”

“No.”

“No. We have a saying about sea dragons. 'Grasp your foes in the jaws of the aban-ataashi.' Crush your foes,” Bull said, gently pulling Eilan closer, “and leave no trace. Those bastards can take out a dreadnought like it’s nothing. Plus they’ve got that electricity thing going on and you’re not so great against that.”

Eilan gave Bull a wounded, petulant look. “I did just fine when we dealt with that lightning dragon.”

“Hiding behind rocks, as I recall.”

“Just like everyone else. Besides, I have spirit blades now. I could manage,” Eilan said, poking Bull’s shoulder. “Let’s see how well you’d do without a barrier or potions.”

Bull grinned. “All right, all right. I’m sorry. You’re very fierce and helpful.”

“Thank you.”

“And pretty fucking cute,” Bull added, kissing Eilan’s hair. “Either way, I’m glad there’s no aban-ataashi near Cullen’s cabin. I'd rather not die in a lake. It’s just not a good enough way to go.”

“You’d be fine. I wouldn’t let an aban-at-whatever take you without a fight.”

“You could take him. You could summon up a rift right on top of him.”

Eilan laughed. “And stick a sea serpent in the Fade?”

“Yeah. Then we could sit back and watch it chomp on some demons.”

“Sounds like a perfectly romantic outing.”

“It’s better than fishing,” Bull pointed out. “Fishing is so fucking boring.”

“It isn’t great,” Eilan allowed.

“You never said what you caught, by the way.”

“A boot and a slight head cold. But it was perfect, really. Not because of anything we did, but…”

“He means a lot to you and you mean a lot to him,” Bull said with a shrug. “You need time alone together. That’s impossible to get around here sometimes.”

“Yes, but I really missed you.”

“Figured as much. I missed you too.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, as ridiculous as it might seem, I can picture Cullen knitting a ton of things when he's particularly stressed. But mostly I just wanted him to be able to knit so he can make nonsense for Bull (and Eilan).
> 
> The next chapter will involve the beginnings of Eilan's trip to Halamshiral and possibly the start of the ball. It should be posted this weekend.


	34. Chapter 34

*

The carriage ride was long, and throughout it all, Eilan was either restless or weary or both. It felt strange being inside what seemed little better than a box with seats and occasional jarring bumpiness from the road. At least being Inquisitor had its perks and he’d opted to take advantage of his status for a change by taking his own carriage with Bull and Cullen. The rest of the group, including those who would not actually be attending the ball, was divided between four other coaches. He could only imagine what it was like for those traveling with Dorian. Insufferable, no doubt. He was certain both Cassandra and Varric would tell him all about it later.

Eilan himself spent most of the ride distracting Cullen from his paperwork or playing a rather ridiculous game with Bull involving locating objects for each letter of the alphabet. They’d managed something for every letter mostly by coming up with things that could be outside even if they weren’t exactly visible.

For some, they cheated and used what was around them. Cullen had provided them with several letters all on his own - advisor for A, Cullen for C, former templar for F, hot for H, irritated for I, paperwork for P, sword for S, templar for T, and very irritated for V. Bull had helped with some of the rest like mercenary for M and Qunari for Q.

By the end of the second round, Cullen’s expression had turned mutinous.

“Maker so help me,” he began in a stern tone, although his look softened considerably when Eilan curled up against him. “If you try playing that again, I am jumping out of the carriage. And I don’t care if--”

Eilan lightly gripped the back of Cullen’s neck, tugging him into a kiss. “That’s probably what K ought to have been for.”

“And that was cheating."

“You don’t really mind.”

“Yeah, and I definitely didn’t,” Bull murmured.

Cullen sighed, but he looked amused. “I suppose it’s a better use for you than playing some tedious game.”

When the ride was over, they’d arrived at their temporary base of operations and home away from home. They’d been given use of a summer estate belonging to a yet another friend of the Montilyet family. Eilan got out of the carriage, feeling oddly out of place as his advisors issued orders. He moved to one side, watching the servants and soldiers try to wrangle the Inquisition’s luggage. He couldn’t believe how much nonsense had been brought with them. His wardrobe alone seemed ridiculous and excessive. 

Wincing, he watched one of the younger elven maids struggling with an enormous valise. Eilan moved to go to her, only to stop and smile fondly when Bull took the suitcase out of her hands. Bull then gathered up half of the remaining luggage pieces from the courtyard. He easily carried them all up a set of stairs and into the house in spite of polite protests from both the girl and several other servants.

“It’s remarkable what a Qunari can become when properly domesticated,” Dorian mused, joining him. “Baffling, in a way. After all, yours is doing this of his own free will. A free will he isn’t supposed to have or want, but one that he’s clearly cultivated for years and is quite proud of.”

“Bull’s complicated,” Eilan pointed out.

“He is. Is it hard to believe there’s only one day left until we’re finally at Halamshiral?” Dorian asked.

“It’s more of a relief than anything else.”

“Then is it hard to believe you own that much? I wouldn’t have thought it possible. Not when you’re always giving things away.”

“Not enough,” Eilan said, frowning slightly. “Or, at least not to the right people.”

“Meaning?”

“I have no idea what to give Cullen or Bull.”

“I’m pretty sure they get plenty of things, but I’m guessing you wish to give them both some sort of token of esteem?”

Eilan nodded.

“There’s always Val Royeaux on our way back to Skyhold. You can get them some sort of trinket or what-have-you. There’s a merchant I ought to visit there, anyway.”

“Something I should sort out?”

Dorian shook his head. “It's something _I_ need to sort out, Eilan.”

“If that changes—”

“You’d be the first person to know, but it won’t. I mean to do this on my own. As for your men, I know Bull has given you that hideous necklace you insist upon wearing... What has Cullen gotten you?”

Eilan hesitated before showing Dorian the coin.

Dorian sniffed, eying the coin thoughtfully. “There is some sort of sentimental value attached to this rather commonplace object, one assumes?”

“It’s for luck and protection.”

“Ah. Then you ought to turn it into an amulet. It’ll be easier to keep track of and it can keep that tooth company. I bet someone can make short work of it and you’ll have it for the ball.”

“I think everyone has enough to do.”

“Blackwall can solve this problem in an instant,” Dorian insisted. “But speaking of problems and that man… I sincerely hope you’re going to tell him to make good use of this manor of ours. He ought to take a bath that isn’t either in a barn or in a trough.”

“I’m not going to force Blackwall to do anything, and he bathes properly all the time. A bit too often, really. I suppose it’s an Orlesian thing.”

“I don’t believe that. Not at all.”

“Have it your way,” Eilan said with a shrug. “So. What can I get them?”

Dorian raised an eyebrow. “You seem to think that what you’ve been given are gifts.”

“Um. Dorian… These _are_ gifts.”

“Not exactly. These are wards or talismans if you like. They’re both worried about you. Bull wants you to have a reminder that you are loved and cared for even when you aren’t fighting alongside him. Cullen wants to ensure you’re protected and invulnerable when he cannot be there to ensure it.”

Eilan nodded. He knew this was true, but he still felt a little guilty. Shouldn’t he have gotten them something too in an effort to protect them? Then again, as Cullen kept pointing out, Eilan was the one potentially in the most danger. He wondered why he hadn’t been able to figure that out completely or as accurately as Dorian had. Then again Dorian seemed to always have an insight or two into relationships, which was odd considering how unattached he was. 

“How is it that you don’t have someone?” Eilan asked.

Dorian chuckled. “When would I find the time, darling? Of late, I’ve been awfully busy trying to explain your own love life to you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not."

"Truly?"

"Of course. I am not even remotely sorry," Dorian assured him. "You are my friend and it’s all rather fascinating. If you were anyone else, I’d probably be a tad resentful, but you’re you. So I’m happy for you. So long as you’re happy.”

“All right.”

“It is,” Dorian smiled at Eilan, nudging his shoulder. “Look, you’ll come up with gifts. There’s no reason to doubt it, and give yourself some credit, will you? You do enough for them. Maker knows you do plenty for everyone. You’re saving the world single-handedly. Literally too, considering it’s the one hand that is doing most of the work.”

Eilan laughed. Then he grinned when a large grey hand snatched up the one in question. 

Bull kissed the back of his hand and tugged Eilan to him. “Yeah but it’s a highly skilled hand. So. What are we talking about?”

Dorian rolled his eyes. “Nothing now that you’re here.”

“We were talking about you,” Eilan explained. "Somewhat."

Bull smiled. “Sweet things from you, sarcastic things from Dorian?”

“Of course.”

Dorian shrugged. “How about you two talk then? I’ll be back with your coin in just a handful of minutes, Inquisitor.”

Bull grabbed the back of Dorian’s robes and yanked gently. “Whoa there. You can’t just wander off with that.”

“Get your ridiculous hands off of me this instant,” Dorian said with a mild glare. “And I will have never-- will never respond positively to ‘whoa there.’”

“Fine,” Bull admitted and let go immediately, “but you can’t just take that coin. It’s special. With all that’s going on and with all the shit that’ll happen tomorrow night, it needs to stay with him.”

“Which is why it’s going to be made into an amulet.”

“That’s a good idea, but then Eilan needs to go with you and it. Taking it somewhere else defeats the whole purpose of Cullen giving it to him.”

Dorian muttered something derogatory in Tevene.

“Yeah, yeah. Blah blah blah to you too.”

“Fine,” Dorian snapped. “We will go there together since the coin has to be less than five feet away from Eilan at all times for its luck to work.”

“That’s all I ask.”

“I doubt that very much. I imagine you’re going with to make sure we don’t spend it all in one place.”

“Well, sure. Someone’s got to keep an eye on the coin.”

Eilan rolled his eyes as they followed a muttering Dorian to Blackwall. “Really, Bull?”

“Really, kadan. Wouldn’t be much of a bodyguard if I allowed you to wander around without your lucky coin.”

Eilan chuckled. “You’re just going with to annoy him, aren’t you?”

“Eh,” Bull said with a smirk and a shrug. “A little of column A, a little of column B.”

Dorian was already explaining what little there was to explain to Blackwall as they caught up to him.

Blackwall snorted. “I’m not sure you all need to be here for this,” he insisted before taking the coin. “Then again I’m not sure the three of you needed to bring this little coin to me either.”

Dorian huffed. “If it was up to Bull, our brief walk over here would be declared the holiest of pilgrimages and we would celebrate its occurrence every year.”

“It’s an idea,” Bull admitted.

“Can we just press on?” Eilan asked. He realized bickering was how they interacted and possibly even something they both enjoyed, but with the ball just around the corner, he had a very limited tolerance for it. “Please, Blackwall.”

The Grey Warden smirked. “Of course, Inquisitor. I can help you with this and easily too.”

They followed him to the blacksmith’s shed, situated between the stables and the manor house. Once there, the Grey Warden took a nail and hammer to the coin, hammering one side and then the other with the nail in the same spot. Then he created jump rings using pins from a large jar that he found on the back of a shelf until he made one that he deemed to be satisfactory.

“That was smartly done,” Dorian said with a frown. He’d been watching Blackwall with his eyes narrowed and arms folded. “Do you often get asked to make amulets from coins?”

“I’ve learned to improvise with less than this. You’d be surprised what happens when people learn you can make things,” Blackwall said with a shrug. “I’m always fixing or building something, and often for the first time.”

“I hope you’re collecting fees or favors.”

The Grey Warden made a small gruff sound then shook his head. “That’s not my purpose.”

“It could be useful.”

“Could be,” Blackwall admitted. “But I don’t need anything but a bit of gratitude and to know that my efforts helped in some way. Here you are, Eilan,” he added, gently handing the coin over. “Get a nice chain for it, and you’re all set. But you won’t need to rely too heavily on luck tomorrow. You’ll have all of us with you.”

“I know,” Eilan said with a small smile. “Thank you.”

*

It was nice to have the coin as an amulet, and it was certainly easier to wear under the outfit he had for Halamshiral. He couldn’t bring himself to leave the dragon tooth behind though. He wasn’t sure how much he wanted to care what anyone thought of it considering anyone at the ball could be the one who sent the mask.

Eilan was wearing a sleeveless light blue tunic with silver embroidery along the edges and white peacock feathered pauldrons. The eye of each feather had been hand-painted a pale blue using crystal grace. Over the tunic, he wore a white silk brocade sash with a glittering, beaded Inquisition eye made of bits of Paragon’s Luster, Fade-touched and otherwise. In addition to that, he had also had white leather trousers, arm guards, and boots.

He’d been given a dragon bone ear cuff, carved into the shape of a griffin. On his fingers were simple Silverite rings with different symbols engraved in each bezel. The symbols included those for the Chantry, the templars, the mages, the Grey Wardens, the people of Ferelden, and the people of Orlais.

The Chantry sunburst worried him. He kept staring it even as Bull complimented his appearance. He only refocused when the Qunari took his hands in one of his larger ones.

“Hey, cool rings. I hope you have to punch someone with these. They’d leave-- Shit, that’s why you don’t like ‘em.” Bull frowned, lightly pulling the Chantry ring off of Eilan’s finger. Then he slowly took the others off as well. He smiled gently, staring at Eilan until the human blushed faintly and smiled back. “Forget ‘em. Everything here is a suggestion. And most of it’s from Leliana and Vivienne. They’re trying to help but if it doesn’t help then ignore it.”

“Is it worse to not wear them?” Eilan asked, glancing away once the rings were gone.

“Look at tonight like one long and shitty game of Wicked Grace. It’s all or nothing, kadan. And, as much as you or I would like to, you can’t afford to put any of these groups above the other or leave ‘em out tonight.”

Eilan nodded.

“We can always get you better rings. I can get you a fuckton if we kill more Venatori.”

Eilan blushed slightly. “Um, I suppose you could.”

“What?”

“It’s just that rings can occasionally mean as much to humans as dragon tooth necklaces mean to your people.”

“Then I owe you rings,” Bull said with a calm shrug. “I’m fine with that.”

“Well, it’s just one ring, really. For the left hand.”

“Yeah, but… One ring isn’t very exciting. I’ll get you ten.”

Eilan smiled, looking up and taking in Bull’s dark blue uniform. All of its accents and accoutrements were silver. The jacket also had a light blue, beaded Inquisition eye over the left breast. Bull’s trousers and gloves were black leather. Apparently it was what all of the others would be wearing with the exception of Leliana and Vivienne who insisted upon being more fashionable. “Bull?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you be offended if I said you looked very good with more clothes on?”

“Not unless that’s your new preference.”

“Never. Lean down,” Eilan suggested, kissing the Qunari once it was easier to reach his lips. “Oh. You have a new eye patch.”

“Yeah. Dragon bone,” Bull said with a grin, lightly tapping the object in question. “Don't worry. Blackwall made it so it didn’t cost you anything.”

“I wouldn’t have minded if it had cost me something.”

“Yeah, but Vivienne and Leliana have had a little too much fun figuring all of this out. You’re gonna want to look at your Inquisitorial budget when we get home, and I didn’t want to add to it.”

Eilan laughed, stroking Bull’s horns. “We’re frugal most of the time. I’m sure they’d been reasonable even if it’s in an extravagant way. Hm. This is a bit crooked.”

Bull grimaced briefly. “Yeah, I know.”

“You want help?”

“Probably.”

Eilan kissed Bull’s forehead before lightly untying the black leather cord keeping the patch in place. Then he kissed the scars over where Bull’s left eye had been. Eye patches served their purpose during the day, but the Qunari often removed his at night. He’d seemed vaguely reluctant at first as if somehow more scars made any sort of a difference. Eventually it had just become a more natural part of getting ready for sleep. Particularly after Bull had given Eilan his dragon tooth necklace. 

He turned the patch over, moving his fingers over the swirls carved into the bone as Bull leaned in, kissing at Eilan’s neck. The back of the patch was lined with soft, Fade-touched Royale sea silk. “Mm. Is this comfortable?”

“It’s pretty fucking great."

“Not kissing me. The eyepatch,” Eilan said with a laugh.

“Right. Same answer.”

“Was the older one hurting you?” Eilan asked with a frown.

“You worry too much. It was fine. For a cheap piece of shit.”

Eilan ducked his head when Bull tried to ruffle his hair. “Stop that. I already told you my hair can’t be mussed with anymore, and besides it just got braided. Again.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bull muttered. He tried again, laughing when Eilan hit the back of his hand. “What about the rest of you?”

“You can touch me just don’t wrinkle anything.”

“Right. So. How are you doing?” he asked, picking Eilan up gently, making an actual effort not to mess up his clothing. Not so much because of any real consequence from Eilan, of course, but Bull was probably keen to avoid any more lectures from Vivienne.

“Well enough,” Eilan murmured, putting the eye patch back in place and snugly knotting its cord. “I can’t wait to be done with this, and it hasn’t even started.”

Bull nuzzled Eilan’s neck. “You know, I wasn’t just giving Dorian a hard time when I said I’d be willing to find you a field of elfroot with a nice view of a starry sky once the sun goes down.”

“I don’t actually need that much elfroot, but I like the idea of a lovely night sky and you keeping me company.”

Bull snorted. “Next time you’re cackling madly over finding some kind of shitty herb, I’m going to remind you of this moment.”

“Then you’ll have to take me to a field of pink and yellow flowers. And you have to tell your Chargers about where we’re going and how much you love me.”

“Aw, kadan. Come on now. There’s nothing left to tell,” Bull insisted. “I mean, if they haven’t figured out how goofy you make me without me saying as much, there’s no hope for ‘em.”

“All right then. Field of flowers. You have your men find it.”

Bull chuckled. “Yeah, all right. No hardship. Consider it done already.”

“And you have to dance with me tonight.”

Bull raised an eyebrow. “Is that right? You think you’ll have room on your dance card?”

There was a knock at the door before Eilan could reply. The Qunari set him down, and Eilan opened it, smiling when he saw Cullen. Then blinking a bit as he took in the tight fit of his Commander’s uniform.

“Hello,” Eilan said, ushering Cullen in. He closed the door, noting that the Commander was holding two mugs.

“Maker’s Breath, we should send you to parties more often,” Cullen said after a moment. He handed Eilan a mug of dark Nevarran coffee and then gave the other one to Bull. Once his hands were free, he inspected the rest of Eilan’s outfit, smirking when he was done. “And Vivienne ought to help you pick out clothes on a more regular basis. For both of you, I’d say. You look rather dashing, Bull.”

Bull frowned. “I look that way all of the time.”

“Most of the time. Your taste in fabrics and patterns can be a bit too…” Cullen 's brow furrowed as he debated how to end that particular sentence. “Orlesian.”

Bull rolled his eye. “You’re lucky this coffee is so damn good.”

Cullen smiled. “I know.”

“We can’t dress like this all the time,” Eilan mused. “That would hardly be practical.”

“I think it would work for you during most circumstances. For entertaining diplomats or overseeing judgments. And for fights. Look at the way Dorian and Vivienne dress.”

“There is that,” Eilan admitted, inhaling the scent of his coffee and then sipping it slowly. “This seems awfully strong, Cullen. Is this an attempt to ensure that I’m more exciting at the ball? It might work.”

Cullen chuckled. “This is because I know how to make coffee, and because you like it. I imagine you’re nearly ready then?”

“As much as I can, and on the way over… no more debriefings. Please. I don’t think I can manage to retain one more fact about any of these people.”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

“Look on the bright side,” Bull put in. “If you know that much about all of ‘em, you’ll be pretty happy regardless of the outcome.”

“Not if the outcome involves providing Corypheus with anything else to work with.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’ll all work out and most of ‘em will live,” Bull said with a sigh. “You’re sort of big on letting people live, kadan.”

“Yes, it’s one of my few shortcomings,” Eilan wryly replied.

Bull grinned. “Just saying. I mean, if it were up to me, well… Eh, I’m sure you could guess.”

“He’s going to have to,” Cullen said firmly. “Now is hardly the time for morbid hypotheticals and outlandish tales.”

“Uh, hate to correct you, but this is basically _the_ time for a lot of those. We’re going to an Orlesian party.”

“Not from you,” Cullen said, crossing his arms. “Bull, your job at Halamshiral is to actually be a bodyguard.”

“Hey, I’ve been doing a great job of--”

“All right, all right. Let’s try this again,” Cullen offered. “Bull, you are an excellent bodyguard with many fine skills and attributes, but you must be even better at your designated role when we are at the Winter Palace.”

“I can accept that.”

“Oh good,” Cullen dead-panned. “Then you know that you’ll need to be vigilant and focused. Like a stone golem.”

“Aw, but that’s not fair. There will be really ridiculously good snacks there, Cullen. And cheese dip.”

“Sweet Andraste,” Cullen murmured. “You’re not literally a stone golem. You can eat just… Can you at the very least agree that you will make an effort to look particularly menacing if Eilan seems to need assistance.”

“Can do.”

“That can’t be necessary,” Eilan insisted. “I’m sure I won’t need assistance."

“Whereas I am quite certain that you will.”

Eilan sighed. “Well, all right. But enjoy yourself if you can, Bull. Someone ought to.”

“So eat a lot of food, drink their terrible wine, keep an eye on what’s mine... I can do all that,” Bull said, looking vaguely amused. “Considering how you look, Commander, you should be more concerned about what’ll happen to you. Ladies love a man in uniform. Men do too.”

“I will hardly be the only one in uniform.”

“You’ll probably be the best-looking one.”

“What about Eilan?”

“Most people are going to avoid him like the blight,” Bull said cheerfully. “He’s got a merc bodyguard with lots of scars, one eye, and pretty fucking big horns. And this ain’t my first Orlesian get-together, you know. I’ve done this quite a bit and I’ve perfected the art of looming. You… Well, it won’t matter what you do, Cullen. You’re obviously foreign and broody and grumpy. A sexy combination here in Orlais.”

“Maybe you should keep an eye on Cullen instead,” Eilan suggested. “I suppose flirting is harmless enough but…”

“I’ll manage,” Cullen promised. “Then again, knowing my luck, we probably could stand to come up with a signal just in case.”

Bull grinned. “Like what? Hoot like an barn owl three times and I sweep you away in my manly embrace?”

“Maker, no.”

“Squeak like a nug and I’ll come over and offer to dance with you? Maybe mewl like a kitten and I’ll offer you an amuse-bouche? I could leer significantly too, remind you about how great last night was,” Bull said, leaning in and smirking at the Commander. “Then loudly suggest that I can probably amuse your bouche better than most because let’s face it. I obviously could.”

Cullen seemed too flustered to say anything at all.

“Could you flap your arms like a dragonl—“

“Oh, shut up,” Cullen said with a sigh. “I have never met a Qunari who talked so much in all my life.”

“Probably should have gone with roar like a lion,” Bull decided. “We’re chatty once we’re comfortable.”

“You must be very comfortable around us then.”

Bull smiled. “Obviously.”

Eilan patted Cullen’s shoulder as the Commander scowled. It wasn’t a very angry sort of look though. There was a hint of fondness to the expression.

“How do you put up with this?” Cullen demanded.

Eilan chuckled. “About as well as you do. Although by this point I’d have kissed him just to get him to stop.”

“And reward such bad behavior?” Cullen shook his head. “Not likely.”

“I’m usually less bad when it comes to Eilan,” Bull said with a shrug. “I like it when he’s shy and happy not embarrassed and confused. It’s a good look for you though.”

“That’s something, I suppose. Now.” Cullen cleared his throat. “See here, Bull.”

“Ser, yes, ser,” Bull murmured, still smirking.

Cullen sighed. “I will wave you over or call out your name if need be. You will then realize you ought to come over promptly. No animal sounds are needed, and no appetizers are required.”

“For now.”

“Forever, Bull. Honestly, as fun as that might be somewhere else, we are not giving these Orlesians a show.”

“Well, yes we are. Technically.”

Cullen seemed to not be able to keep himself from chuckling at that. “Only technically. A demonstration of the Inquisition’s influence and authority is all we will be providing.”

“A show of power, not dinner and a show. I get it. But dancing’s acceptable?”

“For whom?”

“Any combination of the three of us.”

“If there’s time, and if you dance with Eilan first. Obviously it will be after whatever else is going on because dancing is far less important than our actual purpose. Is that understood?”

“It is… but Eilan’s right. Kissing me is probably the best way to shut me up.”

Cullen considered this, fingers drumming against his arms, which had remained crossed throughout the conversation. “It’s worth a try,” he mused. He moved over to Bull, lightly grabbing the Qunari’s horns and maneuvering Bull down into a kiss.

Eilan watched them, noting that the kiss was a bit fiercer than most of the ones he shared with Bull, but that seemed right somehow. And he liked seeing them become more comfortable with one another. He’d yet to find the time to watch them train, and he’d been hoping for a while that the two of them would develop some sort of bond. Maybe it didn’t mean the same sort of thing as it meant when he himself kissed Bull or Cullen, but it was a good start. And a very intoxicating sight.

Cullen let Bull go, smirking a little before looking back to Eilan. “But you’ve been left out.”

“I don’t mind.”

Cullen kissed Eilan’s cheek. “I find that I do,” he murmured before kissing Eilan soundly on the lips.

“More should probably wait until after the pretentious party,” Bull said with a sigh, putting arms around both of the humans. He ruffled Cullen’s hair and kissed Eilan’s forehead. “But, hey, at least it’s something to look forward to.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter should be up before or on Wednesday. Work has been hectic and my free time's a bit weird lately. I'm going to blame it on it being February. But I'm hoping to stick with 2 updates a week. So far, so good. 
> 
> As for the ball, I don't know how much rehashing of the plot I will actually do. My plan at the moment is to focus on what might change in terms of Eilan, gloss over whatever doesn't particularly matter, and maybe adding some cameos or small events. 
> 
> I also have an Anders problem in that I want Anders to show up a few more times, and I have given myself far too many feels about a very rare pairing. So I'm hoping no one will strongly object to a few changes and familiar faces.


	35. Chapter 35

*

On the carriage ride over, Eilan began to feel ill-at-ease. His hands felt numb and icy, but he tried to hide it, thankful for the gloves he’d been given. He lowered his head, leaning forward and resting his hands on his thighs. This worked for the first fifteen minutes until the temperature in the cab began to plummet.

Cullen shivered, frowning when he noticed his breath collecting in the air around him.

Bull just shrugged, giving Eilan a look that was difficult to categorize.

“It’s just nerves,” Eilan said, sitting upright and rubbing his hands together. “I won’t do this at the palace. I won’t.”

Cullen nodded grimly. “I am sure you won’t, however…”

“I have to go, Cullen.”

“We could always say you were—”

“No, we can’t. Nerves schmerves,” Bull said. “Hey, kadan, look… People, even mean, gossipy ones, are like little dragons. You can handle them if you can handle the big ones. You can handle this. So cheer up. This ain’t an execution. It’s a party with free food.”

“And a possible assassination.”

Cullen shook his head. “Bull’s right though. You’re not worried about that part.”

“No, I’m not. I represent the entire Inquisition and I’m given you both frostbite because the idea of being stared at by so many people makes me want to throw myself out this window.”

“At the risk of dealing with inappropriate suggestions from Bull… None of these people are going to give you a hard time.”

“None of these Orlesian people,” Bull agreed.

“It’s just the one night, sweetheart.” Cullen added. “You’ve got me. You’ve got Bull. And two carriages worth of people including Cassandra, Blackwall, and Dorian.”

“Glares for every occasion,” Bull said with a grin. “Even your harem elf’s going. Mother Giselle’s probably rolling around in her grave.”

Eilan laughed before feeling vaguely guilty and then irritated that Bull could always do that. The Qunari knew exactly how to say something stupid enough to make Eilan chuckle. “You can’t call him that. And Mother Giselle isn’t dead.”

Bull shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Solas wouldn’t go if you weren’t going.”

“I think there’s something else going on. He wouldn’t say but he was more cryptic than he usually is.”

Thankfully, Solas had been provided with something appropriate to wear as Vivienne had insisted the Inquisition provide matching uniforms for everyone. It would have seemed like a kind gesture if she hadn’t made it quite clear what she thought of Solas’ attempts at dressing himself.

“So whatever it is, concerns you. I don’t need to speak in tongues to know that.”

Cullen cleared his throat. “Anyway,” he said, touching EIlan’s shoulder. “The point is, nothing can actually harm you tonight. Even when you feel overwhelmed, you have to remember how much you’ve done. These people don’t matter as much as they might have a handful of months ago. They need us—you—far more than you need them. Whether you impress them or not, you will accomplish great things. Furthermore, a lot of people have your back.”

“And your backside may be nice but it’s on the small side. It hardly needs this amount of coverage. Also did you notice Cullen didn’t defend Mother Giselle at all? Hell, he didn’t even mutter a ‘Maker watch over her.’”

Cullen rolled his eyes. “She’s not here, and sometimes your goofy tactics help. They seem to have done the trick tonight seeing as it is a good deal warmer in here. And Eilan doesn’t seem as keen to fling himself out of the carriage window now.”

“I would have waited until we came to a rolling stop,” Eilan muttered.

“But this little pep talk helped?” Bull prompted.

“Yes,” Eilan admitted with a small sigh. “You’ve both made some good, if meandering, points. I can do this.”

*

Cassandra offered Eilan a hand out of the carriage, and he accepted it. She seemed fairly bored with a side of grim. Blackwall looked much the same.

Vivienne was wearing a dark purple gown, and smiling serenely, happy for the first time in months. Josephine and Leliana were both in lovely gowns of green and blue respectively. They seemed eager to go inside.

Dorian looked torn between ennui and dread. Next to him, Solas shifted from one foot to the other, glancing at the palace and then the grounds with his arms folded behind him.

Varric was squinting up at one of the towers, sighing heavily as he tried to pull down the collar of his uniform. “No one makes anything with dwarves in mind.”

“I’m sorry, Varric.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t have to be. You didn’t design these stupid things. Apparently my chest is too much for some of us.”

“Hairy is the word I used,” Cassandra insisted. “And I am not wrong.”

“Uh huh. People are going to stare anyway since I’m the only dwarf at this thing. Might as well give them something to stare at.”

“Well, I have to do a lot of unauthorized snooping,” Eilan said, taking a quiet but deep breath. “Maybe we can save your chest as a last resort when all of our other diversionary tactics have failed.”

Varric laughed, patting Eilan’s arm. “Not a bad plan. You… Doing all right?”

“I don’t know.”

“What’s bothering you?”

“I’ve gotten used to fighting and being with the rest of you but this…”

“You don’t have to get used to it. You just have to put up with it,” Varric insisted. “Just remember your manners and smile. And, you know, to breathe every now and then. And rob ‘em blind for me. I’m sure there’s some great shit lying around in there that no one will miss.”

Eilan nodded. “Anything else?”

“Just one more thing. No matter how tough this thing gets, you’ll be brave and witty and smugly sarcastic in your memoirs when I ghost-write them.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Thank you, Varric.”

“It’s nothing. It’s just a little variation on the truth.”

“How so?”

Varric shrugged. “There’s different kinds of brave, and you’re at least a few of them.”

But Eilan didn’t feel very brave as he moved from one encounter to the next with Orlesian nobility.

First he spoke with Duke Gaspard. The Orlesian noble had concerns about elven disruptions to the peace talks that were to take place. Then he collected a ring for a very rude woman, located hall statues, and searched what rooms he could. He kept his temper in check and his observations to himself. No one seemed to notice if his idle comments were as insincere as his polite laughter.

Josephine and Leliana went over how he was to behave and how important it would be to gather up secrets and favors from the other guests. Eilan listened, although he felt like he could hardly hear either one of them. He had been given this lecture over and over again, but he knew what to do. It wasn’t a matter of failing to understand, it was a matter of not wanting to do it. Yet here he was, and he wouldn’t let them, or the rest of Thedas, down.

Inside of the palace, it felt like he’d entered a different world made up of shadows and whisperings and lurking, looming figures. He listened in on several conversations before making his way up the stairs towards the ballroom. 

A masked man was waiting inside of the door, he nodded to Eilan before moving forward, standing between two guards.

“And now, presenting: Lord Duke Gaspard de Chalons, and accompanying him… Lord Inquisitor Trevelyan, of the Ostwick Circle of Magi!”

The few people who hadn’t been actively staring at him before joined the rest of the large room in monitoring his every step forward. His feet felt like lead, but Eilan kept moving. Soon he was down the stairs and out on the marble floor. He bowed low to Empress Celene, suddenly understanding the significance of the color Vivienne had chosen for her dress.

More titles and deeds were mentioned until the announcer ended with: “Champion of  
the Blessed Andraste herself. Accompanying the Inquisitor: Seeker Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena—”

“Get on with it!” Cassandra ordered.

“You know what’s also official?” Bull muttered quietly. “This guy having the worst job ever.”

Eilan smiled.

The announcer cleared his throat and then continued: “Pentaghast. Fourteenth cousin to the King of Nevarra nine times removed. Hero of Orlais. Right Hand of the Divine.  
Renowned author Varric Tethras.”

Varric scowled. “Yeah, great,” he muttered under his breath. “Introduce me right after you spend an hour on Cassandra. Thanks a lot, jackass.”

The announcer continued with more information on Varric then he continued, introducing everyone present from the Inquisition.

Soon Eilan was standing in front of the Empress, awkwardly waiting for the introductions to end. Many of them had been unkind, and Solas had been referred to as his manservant.

There were murmurings coming from side conversations taking place behind pillars or along the balcony fencing in the dance room. Inside the palace, judgmental voices were softer and haughty slurs were harder to make out. That had not been the case in the garden where nobles had been quick to refer to any elf as “rabbit” and Bull a “clumsy, Maker-forsaken ox.” Dwelling on it was difficult to avoid, but it only served to make Eilan both angry and anxious. What, he wondered, were these horrible, arrogant people saying about him?

He forced a stiff smile, feeling, for the first time in a very long time, very, very uncomfortable with who and what he was. It wasn’t that he cared what these people thought so much as he wished there was a better way to change their minds than to play their Game.

The Empress remained serene and silent, smiling behind her mask. How she felt about any of the proceedings or the Inquisition itself was still a mystery.

Gaspard and Celene exchanged pleasantries or at least somewhat. Celene’s slight bow to her cousin seemed insulting as did the exaggerated one Gaspard gave her once she agreed that negotiations would proceed after she’d seen to her many guests.

“Lord Inquisitor,” Celene began as Gaspard quickly left them, “we welcome you to the Winter Palace. Allow us to present our cousin, Grand Duchess Florianne of Lydes, without whom this gathering would never have been possible.”

What, Eilan wondered, was in it for the Grand Duchess then? No one he’d met so far seemed to genuinely like anyone else so what was she after? Power? Attention? Both?

“What an unexpected pleasure,” Florianne said with a smile. “I was unaware the Inquisition would be part of our festivities.” She moved back from the railing. “We will certainly speak later, Inquisitor.”

“Your arrival at court is like a cool wind on a summer’s day,” Celene added.

Eilan had been told not to warn her. More over, he’d been told it would only cost him favor with her and other nobles present. And yet the urge to do just that lingered on the very tip of his tongue. What if keeping it from her was what got her killed? What if he couldn’t protect her? What if it didn’t actually matter and the evening still resulted in a red lyrium-encrusted and demon-infested future?

Overwhelmed by hypotheticals and aware that he couldn’t overthink his answer without losing points with her guests, Eilan selected a kind lie rather than an unpleasant truth. “I am delighted to be here, your majesty.”

“We have heard much of your exploits, Inquisitor. They have made for grand tales on long evenings. How do you find Halamshiral?”

Eilan smiled. Josephine had made him rehearse the answer to this question at least a dozen times. “I have no words to suffice. Halamshiral has many beauties, and I couldn’t do them justice.”

“Your modesty does you credit, and speaks well for the Inquisition. Feel free to enjoy the pleasures of the ballroom, Inquisitor. We look forward to watching you dance.”

At least someone did. Eilan bowed to her before moving away. He headed back to the entrance, standing near the staircase. “Is your middle name really Stanton?” Eilan asked as Cullen caught up with him.

“It might very well be. And I’ll be over there,” Cullen said, indicating a corner of the room.

“All right.”

“Well, as much fun as it would be for all of us to spend the evening like this,” Dorian said, “we’ll have to split up. Blackwall will probably go to the barn. Where is everyone else headed?”

Virtually everyone else ignored him as they headed off in separate directions. Dorian frowned, glancing outside to the gardens.

The announcer cleared his throat again before saying: “Lady Magister Maevaris Tilani of Qarinus.”

“Over there,” Varric said.

Dorian had been looking about in surprise, but his eyes narrowed as he focused on the dwarf. “Why would you head over there?”

“Because she’s my cousin.”

“She is not.”

“She certainly is.”

“Altus in the Imperial Senate,” the masked announcer said, “Member of the Circle of Vyrantium. Accompanying her: Lord Erebus Tilani.”

Of whom nothing else, apparently, could be said.

“I remember her,“ Eilan said, glancing in the direction they were heading. Leliana was moving slowly in that direction as well and he suspected it was owing more to the Magister’s wardrobe and elegant boots than any actual interest in a conversation.

The Magister was wearing a golden yellow and black dress, the edges of it curling like petals of a flower. She had a golden headdress with black feathers framing her face. The man with her was wearing black and silver, the hood and cowl of his tunic were drawn up, covering his features. Their hands were linked, and while she wasn’t chatting with him, he was still turned towards her. Perhaps he intended to snub virtually everyone else present? It was hard to say.

“I had no idea she was so very popular,” Eilan said. “Or…is she married?”

“Could be,” Bull said with a shrug. “In Tevinter, you take the last name of whoever is from a creepier House or something. I dunno if Varric and Dorian liking her means she’s all that popular... Good-looking Vint though, ain’t she?”

Cullen cringed minutely before scowling. “Bull, go and eat something, would you? Then take your food and stand in the opposite corner of the room from me as we discussed. Please.”

“Hey, don’t be jealous. It’s not like I said she’s the best-looking person here.”

“Corner. Go to it. Now.”

“All right, all right. Geez.” Bull looked at Eilan. The smile he offered up only made Eilan anxious and wistful. He wished the Qunari could ruffle his hair or hold his hand, but of course he couldn’t. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, boss.”

“I suspect that would be impossible.”

Bull just grinned, heading for the tables and trays of appetizers. He didn’t shove people out of his way intentionally but he didn’t seem all that sorry when he did.

Cullen sighed. “You just had to bring him with.”

“I did,” Eilan said with a fond smile. “So far he’s the best part of being here.”

“Yes, well… Now is hardly the time to speak to a Tevinter Magister. You ought to mingle with the rest of the people here.”

“Right.”

*

He wandered the room moving from conversation to conversation. Some he participated in, some he eavesdropped on. He met Josephine’s sister, several noblemen who leered at him until he found a polite way to leave them behind, and several women who asked for dances later on. He spoke to his companions when he found them, but he wasn’t sure where Dorian, Varric, or Solas had wandered off to.

Leliana pulled him aside, asking what Gaspard had said and pointing out Celene’s fascination with the occult. Apparently Magister Tilani was only one of many foreign mages visiting the Empress.

“She has an ‘Occult Advisor,’ Leliana said, “an apostate who charmed the Empress and key members of the court as if by magic. I’ve had dealings with her in the past. She can be quite ruthless. And she is capable of anything depending on her mood.”

“I will look into the matter,” Eilan promised, curious about yet another apostate mage who had achieved a position of power in spite of her status.

He headed for the Grand Library, gathering what information he could about the Occult Advisor. In the Hall of Heroes, he also learned that several elven agents who were concerned about a series of disappearances taking place around the servants’ quarters.

Returning to the ballroom, Eilan frowned as he made his way back to Cullen. The man was virtually surrounded by women.

They giggled and scattered as Eilan navigated his way through them. One of them moved to touch him, but he grabbed her arm gently. He managed an amused, scolding look as she laughed in his face. He was relieved when she merely flounced away.

“Are you married?” an older woman was asking. The young girl next to her was blushing bright red, and was most likely her daughter.

“Not yet, but I am… already taken.”

“Still single then?”

“Inquisitor!” Cullen said loudly. “Did you need something?”

“Yes, there is an urgent matter we ought to discuss.” Eilan nodded politely to the women. “Sorry.”

“One moment,” the lady said, studying him carefully. “What of you, monsieur?”

“Me?”

“Are you yet unmarried? Surely a noble from House Trevelyan would desire an alliance with one of the oldest, most prestigious families in Orlais?”

“I…”

“Unless” the woman said, with a flick of her wrist. Her fan began waving in front of her smirking lips. “Unless the rumors are true. One hears such tales, Inquisitor. One hears of the time you spend alone with your Magister. Of your preference for—”

Cullen cleared his throat, offering the older woman a look that bordered on unfriendly. “Ladies, if the matter is urgent, you will really have to excuse us.”

“Of course,” she said, bowing slightly. “Come, Estelle, let us move on to more profitable conversations.”

“But, maman…”

Cullen shook his head as they left. “Ah, Orlais… Will its wonders never cease?”

“Have you noticed anything?” Eilan asked, wishing they were somewhere else. He would have liked to kiss Cullen.

“Not yet. It would be easier if people would stop talking to me,” was Cullen’s gruff reply. “Other people. Not you.”

Eilan looked down, pretending to flick at some imaginary lint on his sash. “I don’t suppose you’d save a dance for me?” he asked quietly.

“No, thank you,” Cullen said with a dismissive shrug.

Eilan tried to keep himself from looking stricken. He had to avoid confirmation of rumors or giving rise to new ones, but all the same… He was hurt by the answer. “Oh,” he managed, looking up.

Cullen blinked. “Did I… No! I didn’t mean to… Maker’s Breath! I’ve answered that question so many times I’m rejecting it automatically. And you already know I’m not really one for dancing, Eilan.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Then let’s see where the night takes us.”

It wasn’t that the answer was a bad one, but it wasn’t the one he’d been hoping for.

“If we can, we will,” Cullen said quietly. “All right?”

Eilan nodded, but he didn’t make an effort to stick around when the next wave of women arrived.

*

He thought of going to Bull, but the Qunari was eating up a tray of expensive cheeses and getting glared at by servants so Eilan moved to the garden.

He spotted Dorian standing near a marble fountain still speaking to Maevaris. As he moved closer, he realized they were chatting happily in very rapid Tevene. The man who had accompanied the Magister was watching them from a stone bench. He was leaning forward, hands steepled together, and what he thought of the matter was entirely unclear.

Three virtually identical women approached Eilan with a message for the Empress. He’d been told about them before, but he let them explain their masks and their roles as public faces for the Empress.

Celene, it seemed, was eager to assist the Inquisition, but would not do so publicly until Gaspard was dealt with. Eilan wondered if anyone at the ball would ever realize how lucky they were that Corypheus did not seem in any great hurry to burn Thedas to the ground while their leader asked for more than she was actually willing to give.

“That’s a generous offer,” he said, eager to be done with the conversation.

“The Empress believes wholeheartedly that the Inquisition is our best hope for peace in these difficult times.”

That was true at least. She’d believe it far before the night was through.

“She looks forward to cementing a formal alliance. As soon as Gaspard is out of the way.”

Eilan wasn’t entirely sure she would get the alliance she’d hoped for or that he had any intention of getting rid of Gaspard through force or violence. He didn’t like the need for secrecy or half-promises contingent on the Inquisition doing all of the work only to share all of the credit later on.

“But we have taken enough of your time,” said the second one.

“Please, enjoy the masquerade, Inquisitor,” the third one said as they all curtsied.

“Inquisitor,” Dorian called out once the ladies had moved on. “Do come here.”

Eilan moved towards them, mindful that he could not spend too long with one group but wanting to be a part of a group that actually wanted him around if only for a handful of minutes. He allowed himself a small sigh, trying to relax as Dorian tugged him forward.

“This is Maevaris. That is, Magister Tilani. Maevaris, is Inquisitor Eilan Trevelyan.”

“A pleasure,” Eilan said.

“Close to one, right?” she said with a small smile. “It’s really bizarre how much work a party can become, isn’t it? Then again, I imagine you’ve had so little time to relax of late that you’ve quite forgotten how.”

Eilan relaxed slightly. “Yes, I’d have to agree. It’s a bit difficult with so much going on elsewhere. There is a great deal to do.”

“Yes there is, and I can’t thank you enough for offering me your support, dear.”

“I only wish it had done more.”

“It did some a great deal. Not all of it good, but, well,” she shrugged her bare shoulders, “here we are.”

“Will you be in Orlais long?”

“Oh, for a bit, and then it’s off to Ferelden. I’m visiting old friends, you see.”

“You’ve already found one.”

“Yes, and I must commend you, Inquisitor. You’ve done an excellent job looking after him in spite of it all.”

Eilan chuckled. “Have I?”

“Oh yes. Dorian can be an absolute handful, and he’s such an ungrateful lout, but he says the kindest things about you in his letters. Infrequent as they are.”

Dorian frowned. “I am not ungrateful nor am I a handful. I’ve done an excellent job looking after myself, thank you very much.”

“Save for camping. Before he joined you, he slept in caves full of foul creatures because he couldn’t figure out how to work a tent. Maker, but his letters left me distraught. Then he joined you and switched from telling me about his near-death experiences with giant spiders to asking if I could send him cashmere sweaters.”

Eilan smiled, thinking about how Bull would have something amusing to say about Dorian pitching a tent. “He has a lot of complaints, I’ve noticed.”

“Part of his charm,” Maevaris insisted.

Dorian shook his head, but he smiled just the same.

“At any rate, I should like to speak to you somewhere else about many things. A gathering of so much illustrious and noble minds is no time for a private conversation with anyone let alone a Magister from Tevinter.”

“I would like that,” Eilan assured her, not really caring what anyone thought of his decision.

“Oh good. Before you go… Come here, amatus,” she said, glancing back at the man. “Maker’s Sake, you would think you were attending a funeral.”

Lord Tilani rose to his feet, moving to stand next to her.

“This is my husband who you may recall from… well, a previous conversation.”

He was significantly taller than his wife, and his lips were set in a rather harsh line. The hood stayed in place, casting a long shadow over his face. His hair was much darker and his chin was clean-shaven, but it wasn’t very hard to recognize him. After all, the first time they’d met, Anders had all but saved his life.

In many ways though, Anders could have been anyone. He was not the sort of person one’s eyes were drawn to, particularly when he was standing next to someone like Maevaris.

Eilan offered up a fairly neutral but polite smile, suddenly grateful for all of Josephine and Dorian’s coaching. “Yes, that is, of course. I wouldn’t forget something like that. It’s nice to see you again.”

“I suppose,” Anders said, sounding bored. He smirked slightly, most of the expression hidden.

“You’ll have to forgive him,” Maevaris said, smiling when Anders slowly put an arm around her. “He only accompanied because—”

“You never know what will happen at a Grand Orlesian ball,” Anders murmured, still sounding severely indifferent even as his brown eyes indicated mild amusement. “I’d hardly send my wife to one without some sort of chaperone.”

Playing the part of a very dour and put-upon husband would have hardly been unusual for a ball and it kept people focused on his wife. Hailing from Tevinter was another strike against him as was his lack of manners and indifference to the Game going on around him. It wasn’t a bad idea, really. Eilan wondered if they knew much about the Occult Advisor. It was possible they were even her guests.

“Yes, well, not much with the way you follow me and skulk about,” Maevaris said with a shrug. “Don’t let us keep you, Inquisitor, although... I hope you won’t mind if I borrow Dorian for a bit. I’ve missed him.”

“He’s missed you very much, I’m sure.”

Dorian rolled his eyes. “He is standing right here.”

“I have to admit the reason is also a bit more immediate and selfish,” Maevaris added, "I’d like to dance with someone who won’t tread on each of my toes collectively and individually.”

Anders snorted. “And I should like to never dance again.”

Maevaris chuckled. “Back to your bench then?”

“I think it best,” Anders murmured, kissing her cheek before moving away.

“A moment,” Dorian said, following after Eilan. “You seem rather miserable underneath it all.”

“Do you think--”

“Oh, of course not. I’ve only noticed because I know you. What’s the matter?”

“What isn’t?”

“You didn’t ask those buffoons to dance, did you?”

Eilan sighed heavily. “I asked Cullen after a woman asked me if I was single and then went on and on about the rumors that I’m involved with you.”

“Welcome to Orlais, Inquisitor,” Dorian wryly replied. “If you find ten scarves, I’d dance for you and let me tell you… You’d forget all about the pair of them by the time I was done.”

Eilan blinked, coloring slightly. “Um. I think it’s best that I don’t do that.”

“Probably not, but if they don’t dance with you then I shall be forced to take matters into my own hands. And there’s a Caprice coin over by the fountain. Might be worth tossing in. For luck and all that rot.”

“Thanks, I’ll pick it up.”

“Any leads? If not, Mae is quite good at serving as a distraction and you might want to try upstairs.”

Eilan frowned, glancing up. “If I could get up there, I would.”

“Try the trellis,” Dorian suggested.

“Ah.”

*

Eilan had no idea what sort of diversion Dorian or Maevaris provided. He was too intent on scaling the trellis quickly and scrambling about from task to task. He couldn’t afford to linger for too long, but he worked on locating halla statues, solving puzzles with Veilfire, looting, gathering secrets, and learning whatever he could about what was actually going on at the ball.

It was a lonely, quiet business-- not to mention a rushed one. He was mindful of the fact that he needed to be seen enjoying the ball, not skulking through corridors and spying on nobles and servants.

When he had spent enough time out of the sight of the other guests, he dashed down a corridor before resuming a slower pace as he headed back towards the Grand Ballroom.

“Well, well, what do we have here?”

Boot heels clicked on marble stairs as Eilan turned around. A rather lovely woman was walking down to him, and her tone reminded him of that Leliana had said that her moods and whims might determine her actions.

“The leader of the new Inquisition, fabled Herald of the faith. Delivered from the grasp of the Fade by the hand of the Blessed Andraste herself.” She set her hands on her hips. “What could bring such an exalted creature here to the Imperial Court, I wonder? Do even you know?”

“We may never know. Courtly intrigues and all that,” Eilan said, smiling and crossing his arms. She was interesting, unique, and strange, and that in of itself was like a breath of fresh air.

“Such intrigues obscure much, but not all.” She inclined her head, offering a small nod. “I am Morrigan. Some call me Advisor to Empress Celene on matters of the arcane.” She moved forward, and Eilan followed. “You… Have been very busy this evening, hunting in every dark corner of the palace. Perhaps you and I hunt the same prey?”

“I hope so. I could use another ally here.”

“Have you found some to your liking?”

“Some. I… I’m not much for gatherings such as these.”

“No, you strike me as an honest sort of person,” Morrigan said with a shake of her head. “A foolish thing to be, and yet the world persists in providing them. But we are speaking of allies, and I share your sentiment, considering recent events.”

“Which ones?”

“Recently I found an unwelcome guest within these very halls. An agent of Tevinter. He did not arrive with Magister Tilani, of course, and he has since been killed. So I offer you this, Inquisitor: a key found on that Tevinter’s body.” Morrigan snapped her fingers, summoning up a small black key. She handed it to him, lips quirking up ever so slightly. “Where it leads, I cannot say. Yet if Celene is in danger, I cannot leave her side long enough to search. You can.”

“It is wise to leave her alone?”

“’Twould be a great fool who strikes at her in public, in front of all her court and the Imperial guard.”

“What’s your interest in protecting Empress Celene?” Eilan asked curious to hear Morrigan’s reasoning. He had asked most of his companions their opinion but he thought it might be helpful to hear what someone close to her thought about the situation.

“If anything were to happen to Celene, eyes would turn first to her ‘Occult Advisor.’ Even if they knew otherwise. There are sharks in the water, and I will not fall prey to them. Not now, not ever.”

After a night of misleading nonsense, her brutal honesty was sort of nice. He didn’t want harm to come to Celene, of course, but like Morrigan, his interest in the Empress’ safety had less to do with her specifically and more to do with what would happen were she to die. And Eilan did, as Bull had previously lamented, prefer for people to live.

He turned the key over in his hands, considering the various conversations he’d listened in on and the areas of the palace he had yet to gain access to. “Briala’s people are whispering about disappearances in the servants’ quarters. This key may lead there.”

“The Ambassador does have eyes and ears everywhere, does she not? Proceed with caution, Inquisitor. Enemies abound, and not all of them aligned with Tevinter.”

“Tevinter seems to have a handful of nice people,” Eilan agreed.

They arrived at the door and Morrigan regarded Eilan thoughtfully. She smirked in the dim candlelight as she started to move away. “What comes next will be most exciting.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was so difficult to start, but it ended up being more enjoyable as I continued writing it. The next update should be over the weekend or on Monday. 
> 
> I couldn't resist adding Anders, and I couldn't resist having him be with Maevaris. Part of it is [the other fic I'm writing](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3264989/chapters/7120247), and the other aspect of it is Hawke is with Fenris. And I'd like for Anders to be happy to some degree and definitely a part of things, particularly events concerning Corypheus. 
> 
> Thanks, as per usual, to Tigercule for the beta!


	36. Chapter 36

*

He needed to head for the servants’ quarters, but it was important to be at the ball so Eilan toured the ballroom again. A bell rang and, as Josephine had insisted he do, Eilan waited for a second chime before he entered.

Dorian was chatting with Cullen whose corner seemed to have cleared out.

“What’s happened?” Eilan asked.

“A little magic,” Dorian said with a smile. “No one can get rid of women quite like I can.”

“It’s funny but it is, in fact, the truth,” Cullen sheepishly agreed. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“No,” Dorian admitted. “You certainly can’t, and now I’m going back outside before Mae tosses Varric into the fountain.”

Eilan frowned. “Oh. I was going to throw in some Caprice coins, but I guess I should wait. What happened?”

Dorian shrugged, giving him a slightly meaningful look that faded into a fond smile. “Oh, he wasn’t invited to her wedding, and all that.”

“Why should that matter?” Eilan asked.

“Well, she’s all the family he has left.”

“Weddings are important,” Cullen agreed, still looking a little sheepish. “My sister’s still furious that I missed hers.”

Eilan glanced out one of the large bay windows. Varric and Solas were out in the garden. Solas was sitting with his back to the fountain. Anders was still on his bench. Maevaris was standing near him. She had one hand on a hip, glaring at the dwarf who was glaring right back at her.

Several masked women were watching the argument like it was a spectator sport, but Eilan found he wasn’t overly concerned. Neither one of them seemed likely to discuss anything of substance and if they were fighting over something more significant than a misplaced invitation, an outside observer would never be able to tell.

Eilan moved away and found Bull. He was in the same spot he’d been in the last time Eilan had stopped by. Bull was eating another tray of food and he held it out when Eilan stopped in front of him.

“What are these?”

“Tarts with pears and some kind of stinky cheese. They’re fu—fantastic. Um. Exquisite. Or some shit.”

Eilan took one.

“Take a few more. You need brain food,” Bull insisted.

“I’m all right. Anything happen while I was gone?”

“It became official that no one here likes Dorian either,” Bull said with a grin. “He started critiquing the outfits of all the girls hitting on Cullen. They left, but not before one lady hit him upside the head with a paper fan and another poured a really expensive glass of wine over his head. Then some asshole tried to get Cassandra to dance with him but she made him cry instead. Dunno where he went. Oh, and then there’s whatever’s going on out there with Varric and the hot Vint.”

Eilan nodded and sighed. “You really shouldn’t call her that.”

“It’s fun though.”

“I suppose.” It seemed as if everyone else was having fun of one kind or another. Well, save for Varric.

“Aw, kadan. You make it hard to behave,” Bull muttered. He sighed but he set the tray down. “Hey. Did you see the trophy room? There’s a real nice wyvern head in there. Let’s go.”

Eilan’s brow furrowed slightly but he followed Bull out of the ballroom and into the Hall of Heroes. “I don’t know if… Oh.”

As soon as the door closed, Bull touched his cheek and then his hair.

He closed his eyes, leaning into the touch and feeling a little foolish.

“Just a little bit of this. Can’t have everyone knowing.”

“I don’t want just a little bit,” Eilan insisted, hugging Bull tightly. “I don’t care. I just want to be done with this ball.”

“I know,” Bull said soothingly, scooping Eilan up and nuzzling his neck. “But a lot of work went into getting us here. Can’t fritter it all away because you like kissing me.”

“Can we dance later? You never said.”

Bull chuckled, huffing against Eilan’s skin and smirking when the human groaned quietly. “Can you imagine the looks on their faces if we… Oh. You’re serious.”

“I am.”

“Sure, we can dance. After.”

“Must it be after?”

“You know it does. Business before pleasure, kadan. Get your job done and you can have a dance. Hell, you can have whatever you want. So. What's been going on?”

*

Once Eilan explained what he’d been able to learn so far, they both went back to the ballroom to collect Dorian, Cassandra, and Varric.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” Varric muttered once they were headed for the servants’ quarters.

Dorian rolled his eyes. “What was I supposed to tell you, and when? I didn’t know she was your cousin.”

“I guess that’s true.”

“You guess?” Dorian asked with a scowl. “At any rate, surely you must have had your suspicions. Maevaris kept him around for such a long time that one could only assume she had… feelings for him.”

“Yeah, well… That wasn’t part of the plan.”

“Are you telling me you’re the one who left him in Tevinter?” Dorian chuckled. “And you still had the gall to try and scold her? Maker’s Breath, Varric, but you are a rather clumsy oaf at times.”

Varric sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. “I know.”

“No more chatting,” Bull suggested. “You can sort out your hot Vint friend later.”

“Watch yourself, Qunari.”

“What are you going to do about it, dwarf?”

“Silence,” Cassandra said. “If we wanted to bring a flock of children along… Well, they would probably behave better.”

“Cassandra’s…not wrong. The rest of you can all go back to the ballroom if you don’t keep it down,” Eilan said with a sigh. Honestly, it was like herding cats at times.

Eilan put the Tevinter’s key in the lock, and led the way into the servants’ quarters, and they hadn’t gotten very far before they found a dead body and blood splattered all over the floor. He felt sorry for the poor elven man, sorry for all of these servants, really. No one would care much that he had been slain save for the poor soul responsible for cleaning up the mess.

They pressed forward into the kitchens where Bull held Eilan up to gather a halla statue and more information from the rafters.

“I don’t get why things end up in such stupid spots,” Bull muttered, lowering Eilan slowly and kissing his hair.

“You’re not supposed to do that.”

“What are you gonna do? Tell on me.”

“Yes, I’ll tell Vivienne.”

“This is because I said that Magister was the hot Vint, isn’t it?”

“It wasn’t but it is now.”

They moved into an elaborate courtyard full of vine-covered arches, pastel purple flowers, and ornate statues. By a large fountain with four winged lions, they found another dead body and more puddles of blood. Eilan knelt down by the corpse, frowning at the elegant clothes.

“This was no servant. What was he doing here?”

“Looks like a messenger,” Bull said.

Cassandra crouched down, inspecting the satchel of scrolls lying next to the body. “A Council of Heralds emissary, and the crest of the Chalons family. Duke Gaspard will answer for this.”

“Then again,” Bull said, “he ain’t the only Chalons here.”

Cassandra snorted. “You suspect the Grand Duchess?”

“I suspect anyone Orlesian.”

“And yet,” Dorian pointed out, “you persist in wearing their pants.”

“Bull's trousers are hardly a major concern at the moment," Eilan said, pointedly ignoring the derisive snort from Dorian and the amused smirk from Bull. "And speculating will not help. Whether this is his doing or not, it can’t hurt for me to speak directly to the Duke. Once we're back in the ballroom, anyway."

Just then a young elven servant ran towards them only to have her back and throat slashed by a figure in white who followed her along the cobblestones. There was a cloud of smoke and the clang of two daggers before the figure appeared again on a terrace a story or so above where they stood.

“Is that… Was that a clown?” Eilan asked, a bit puzzled and shaken. 

“A Harlequin,” Cassandra explained. “Elite rogues employed by nobility. For a considerable fee.”

“In essence,” Dorian added, “a skilled and slightly psychotic assassin.”

“Gotta say I’m not a huge fan of clowns,” Bull muttered. “Fancy-ass names or not.”

“At least it’s something different,” Varric pointed out. “It’s been red templars and demons a lot lately.”

At this point, a small group of Tevinter mages and soldiers rushed at them.

“Right,” Varric muttered, reaching for Bianca. “And Venatori, almost forgot about them.”

*

They continued on through the gardens, dispatching a considerable amount of Venatori agents, and locating several more bodies of unfortunate servants. Returning back inside the palace, they found more of the same in libraries, private rooms, and pillared halls. There wasn't much to loot, but they stopped and did just that whenever time permitted. Eilan felt that it was rather nice to have something concrete to show for his troubles.

Eventually they found a staircase leading up, and they raced down the corridors, killing more Venatori and trying to locate the Harlequin. In a long hallway full of boxes and crates covered in canvas, they met a female elven servant, who was very much alive. She moved towards them using a rather sharp kitchen knife to kill a Venatori mage. “Fancy meeting you here, Inquisitor Trevelyan,” she said. “And what a surprise! My reports said you were terribly boring.”

“Recruit new people,” Varric advised.

“We haven’t been properly introduced, have we?” the elf continued, offering up a slight bow. “I’m Ambassador Briala.”

Wearing a silverite mask and dressed in green dress with white accents, she looked like any other servant. Eilan was glad to see someone making good use of the inability of Orlesians to tell the difference between any of the elves in their employ.

“I’m glad to finally meet you,” Eilan said with a small smile. “I’ve been hearing about you all night long.”

“Nothing good, to be sure,” she said with a hint of a smirk. “Your reputation for getting results is well deserved.” Briala moved towards a small set of stairs that lead to a balcony overlooking the garden. Eilan followed. “You cleaned this place out. It will take a month to get all the Tevinter blood off the marble. I came to save or avenge my missing people, but you’ve beaten me to it.”

“My apologies.”

“You were quick and efficient. I have no complaints.” She glanced over the railing, frowning. “So,” she added, turning back to look at him. “The Council of Heralds’ emissary down there… That’s not your work, is it?”

“No, but I have some suspicions as to whose it might be.”

“Make sure the accusations will stick before you hurl them,” Briala advised. “Appearing foolish at a place like this could prove costly.” She studied him thoughtfully then laughed. “It is curious. You have arrived with the Grand Duke, but you don’t seem to be doing his dirty work for him.”

“No, and I would be glad to be informed of what you know.”

“I knew he was smuggling in chevaliers,” she said with a shrug. Eilan imagined this was only to be expected. “But killing a Council emissary? Bringing Tevinter assassins into the palace? Those are desperate acts. If it is Gaspard, he must be planning to strike tonight.”

“Regardless of whom it is, the Empress needs to know what’s going on.”

Briala sighed, crossing her arms. “You can try to warn her if you like. She won’t believe anything from me. But I’ve misjudged you, Inquisitor. You might just be an ally worth having.”

“I should like to have more allies,” Eilan agreed, realizing the night wasn’t shaping up to be a complete waste after all. It was a little early to tell whether he could work with or trust either one of them, but he’d liked Morrigan and he liked Briala.

“You should like me a good deal then,” Briala said, uncrossing her arms. “What could you do with an army of elven spies at your disposal? You should think about it.”

“I would consider it, certainly.”

“We can help each other, Inquisitor. We are both outsiders here, after all. I know which way the wind is blowing. I’d bet coin that you’ll be part of the peace talks before the night is over. And if you happen to lean a little bit our way? It could… prove advantageous to us both. Just a thought.” She moved to the balcony where the railing had been destroyed and crouched before jumping down.

“I know that’s what we want, but peace is so damn boring,” Bull muttered.

“Less tedious than this Game we’re meant to keep playing,” Dorian said with a sigh. “Although I’ve rather enjoyed this last part.”

“Nice exit,” Varric said, looking off in the direction that Briala had disappeared into. 

Cassandra sighed, moving away to loot the bodies scattered around them. “More politics and double-dealing. Is there anyone here who is not corrupt?”

“At least the woman’s working on an actual cause that matters,” the dwarf said. “Look at the way elves get treated around here. You’d be sneaky and conniving too if you had to be.”

“Perhaps,” Cassandra allowed.

*

They separated near in the hall leading to the Grand Ballroom. Dorian went to the gardens, Cassandra set off to see how Cullen was faring against his new batch of suitors, and Varric and Bull offered to store the weapons somewhere close-by.

Eilan gave his staff to Bull and headed back inside. He wasn’t sure what he would actually say to Gaspard, but he felt Briala was right. He couldn’t accuse the man of anything unless he was certain.

Then again, it seemed he wouldn’t be able to speak to the Grand Duke for his sister, the Grand Duchess was already waiting for him.

“Inquisitor Trevelyan,” she said. “We met briefly. I am Grand Duchess Florianne de Chalons," and here she offered a low curtsy. “Welcome to my party.”

“Is there something I can do for you, Your Grace?”

“Indeed you can. I believe tonight you and I are both concerned by the actions of… a certain person.” She moved away to a small set of stairs. “Come, dance with me. Spies will not hear us on the dance floor.”

“Very well,” Eilan managed, trying to look and sound more confident than he felt. “I should be honored, your grace.” And he should have been only… Only he would have preferred to only dance with Bull or Cullen. Or a friend like Dorian, but he couldn’t say no. Not exactly.

As they danced, she spoke of her concerns about what was taking place within the walls of Halamshiral. She asked of what he knew and who he trusted, but he avoided sharing anything with her so much as soliciting her opinion time and time again.

As the dance ended, she finally revealed that she felt her brother was behind the “dangerous machinations” taking place that evening.

“You have little time,” she said as the dance drew to a close. “The attack will come soon. You must stop Gaspard before he strikes. In the Royal Wing garden, you will find the Captain of my brother’s mercenaries. He knows all Gaspard’s secrets. I’m sure you can persuade him to be forthcoming.”

While Eilan certainly had no great affection for the man who had brought him to the Grand Ball, he was beginning to doubt Gaspard was as much of a mastermind as everyone else would have him believe. It was far too convenient, and… as Bull had pointed out, there was more than one Chalons.

“We’ll see what the night has in store, won’t we?” he said, as they bowed to one another.

“There is one more thing,” Florianne said with a smile that bordered on wicked. “A small request that you will surely honor.”

“A small request?” Eilan repeated. He’d gotten used to parroting her words back to her during the course of their dance. It had been easier than trying to come up with something new that wouldn’t compromise his neutral act of listening.

“I have heard, Inquisitor, that you play the piano. Is that not so?”

Eilan blinked. “It is,” he admitted.

“Then do me this one last favor,” she said, taking his arm and leading him towards the band at the far corner of the room. “Play something. Wouldn’t we all like to have the Inquisitor perform for us?” she asked loudly of her guests.

The suggestion was met with a dull roar of approval, some laughter, and a good deal of eager staring.

By this point, Eilan was next to a piano and the Grand Duchess was still next to him, looking at him much like he was fascinating animal she’d recently tamed.

“There, you see? You simply must play.”

“It would see that I must,” Eilan agreed, striving for a lighthearted tone. He gently removed his arm out of her grasp, stepping around her and moving to the piano bench.

Whether it was a heartfelt tune or something more lively, it didn’t matter. There was nothing he wanted to do less than to play anything for these people. But he couldn’t really protest. He couldn’t do anything about the way she was eying him just as he couldn’t actually ask her what she thought she was doing by accusing her brother of “blackest treason” in a ballroom full of guests.

The Grand Duchess was, like so many of her guests, amused and primarily at his expense. None of them imagined he’d perform all that well and the innuendo would be working its way into their whispered conversations as they waited for him to begin. As a Marcher and a Tranquil, what would he know about music or anything at all for that matter?

Unlike many of her guests, Florianne knew full well that he understood this was more than a small request or an impromptu suggestion. She knew damn well what she was asking. And she was pleased that he understood there was no getting out of it.

He sat down, not seeking out any familiar face in the crowd for he knew that he was under a good deal of scrutiny. He cracked his knuckles instead, facing the black and white keys that would not offer up judgment before his fingers were splayed across them.

Staring down at his fingers, Eilan started slow with a halting, brooding piece that reminded him of his journey through the Frostbacks. He didn’t need the reminder of another time when people stared at him so he decided to think instead of his friends and all that he had accomplished.

This of course made him realize he ought to play something brighter, something louder, something that none of the guests could ignore. His fingers moved rapidly over the keys and his boots fell lightly on the pedals as the tune grew more cheerful and complex.

He looked up, still not seeking out anyone in particular but making sure everyone there saw his face at least once. He wanted them to see that he didn’t care what they thought because he knew he could play better than they might have anticipated. He wanted each and every Orlesian noble there to know that he wasn’t playing for them but in spite of their presence.

No one was speaking now. No one was looking elsewhere, and no one was smirking as he made a fool of himself because he wasn’t.

Eilan added scales and other embellishments, hands briskly moving from key to key until the piece arrived at a fitting end.

Ears ringing and nerves threatening to resurface in an effort to get the best of him, Eilan rose to his feet. He bowed to the room, the gesture less politely deferential and more gruffly defiant than anything else, and then strode away.

*

Eilan went straight to the garden, coming close to shoving past those who approached him until he was clear of the ballroom. He moved over to the edge of the balcony, smiling and nodding at the nobles who spoke to him. They all seemed oddly impressed. For the moment, at least.

When Josephine and Vivienne approached him, he braced himself for a lecture.

“Well done,” Josephine said, moving to his side and smiling up at him. “With performances like that, you’ll be the talk of the court for months.”

Eilan blinked. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Even the second one?”

Vivienne chortled as if Eilan had said something particularly witty. “Especially the second one, my dear. Although I imagine it goes without saying that the reception you have and will continue to receive was not as the Grand Duchess had intended.”

“It did strike me as a possibility,” Eilan wryly replied.

Vivienne shook her head. “You managed to play the Game very well for a foreigner, and yet you still seem as though you would be far more comfortable facing demons and horrors.”

“You still face demons and horrors,” Josephine said, looking fond. “These are simply better dressed.”

“Was that performance Florianne’s idea?” Leliana asked as she joined them.

“I rather hope it was,” Cullen said. “Maker’s Breath, but the look of dissatisfaction on that woman’s face was so… Well, satisfying. I didn’t realize you could play so aggressively, Eilan. Good for you.”

Eilan smiled. “I don’t know if I’d say that my playing was aggressive.”

“It was,” Cullen assured him. “And truly inspired besides. I daresay none of them were expecting that.”

Leliana laughed. “Be careful, Inquisitor, or else you’re going to have an eager if tone-deaf pupil on your hands.”

Cullen rolled his eyes. “I am not tone-deaf. More importantly,” he added, crossing his arms, “what happened at the servants’ quarters? I heard there was fighting.”

“I hope you also have some good news,” Josephine said. “It would appear that the peace talks are crumbling.”

“I think I shall move on,. Too many of us are over here as it is,” Vivienne said before heading in search of more entertaining company.

“Morrigan helped me get into the servants’ quarters,” Eilan said, “where I found a group of Venatori. And Gaspard’s dagger.”

He explained the rest of what they’d discovered as well as his meeting with Briala before moving on to his dealings with Grand Duchess.

“While we were dancing…” Eilan hesitated, lowering his voice but offering up a shy if fond smile to confuse those watching them, “Florianne told me it’s all a part of his plan, which makes me, as you might guess highly suspicious.”

“That may be,” Lelina said, “but you cannot fail to take into account that the man would truly do anything to become Emperor.”

Cullen nodded. “And it’s perfectly obvious that an attack on the Empress will happen tonight.”

“Can we speak to—”

Josephine shook her head. “Warning Celene is pointless. She needs these talks to succeed, and to flee would admit defeat.”

Eilan sighed, privately wondering why they were helping a woman –an Empress no less-- who seemed so very incapable of making any effort to help herself.

“Then perhaps we should let her die.”

Eilan blinked as he stared at Leliana. “Beg pardon?”

“What Corypheus wants is chaos. Even with Celene alive, that could still happen. To foil his plan, the Empire must remain strong. This evening, _someone_ must emerge victorious.”

“And it doesn’t need to be Celene,” Cullen mused before looking at Eilan. “She’s right.”

“Do you realize what you’re suggesting, Leliana?” Josephine asked.

“Sometimes the best path is not the easiest one.”

“And if it comes out that we knew about what was to happen only to stand idly by, our path will become quite thorny.”

Eilan crossed his arms, staring out over the edge of the railing. He regretted it instantly for they were relatively far from the ground. He sighed, closing his eyes briefly before looking again at his advisors. “You’re asking me to decide what’s best for Orlais.”

“And she might not be the best,” Cullen pointed out. “More than that, whoever controls the Imperial Throne will affect all of Thedas.”

“You cannot stop Corypheus without a decision,” Leliana said. “You must support someone, or all is lost.”

“Then we should support Celene,” Josephine insisted. “She _is_ the rightful ruler. Why would we say otherwise?”

Cullen sighed. “Because she led Orlais to this point. I say Gaspard, provided his sister is wrong about him.”

“I would suggest Briala,” Leliana argued. “She could bring true peace, not only to the Empire but also its elves.”

“Is it _someone_ or _something_ that I must support?” Eilan asked. 

“Something being the Inquisition?” Cullen asked. “I can’t see why we shouldn’t come out on top by the end of all this.”

“Then couldn’t we control whoever is on the throne?”

“Of course. Is that what we want?”

Eilan sighed heavily. No, it wasn’t really what he wanted, but if Celene remained Empress, it was what he would get. Maybe Gaspard wasn’t ideal and maybe Briala had her own agenda, but either one of them seemed capable of being an ally. That also meant, however, that they were capable of being a problem. 

Ultimately, he was more in agreement with Josephine than Leliana or Cullen. It also seemed rather foolish to allow an assassination after all the planning and plotting they’d done. Eilan wasn’t sure he honestly favored any of them over the other, but if he was responsible for what became of an entire country perhaps it was best that he settled for peace. If all three of them could work together, surely something good would happen..

“Right,” he said finally, “I can’t decide this. Not yet.”

“You must,” Leliana said, her tone a tad harsh. “Even inaction is a decision, Inquisitor.”

“We are, however, getting quite a bit ahead of ourselves,” Cullen pointed out with a hint of a scowl. “There is a time and a place for bold, reckless plans, Leliana. We have yet to arrive at such a moment or such a location.”

"I do not agree."

“How do I proceed?” Eilan asked, rapidly losing interest in prolonging their discussion. 

“You could speak to Celene in the ballroom, but she will not act. Not without proof,” Josephine warned.

Cullen shrugged. “If Gaspard is guilty, he’ll admit nothing. If he’s innocent, he knows nothing. We need the truth.”

“Florianne mentioned Gaspard’s mercenary captain,” Eilan said. “He’s in the Royal Wing, and he knows about the assassination plot. I’ll locate him.”

Cullen frowned. “Unless it’s a trap.”

“I’ll manage.”

“Then search the private quarters in that wing for clues or information. Anything we can use,” Josephine said.

“Get me access,” Eilan said. “In the meantime, Cullen, get your soldiers into position.”

Leliana left with Josephine close behind her. Cullen lingered. “Josephine is right. You’re the one to decide, and it will be the right decision.”

“Will it?” Eilan asked, running one hand along the railing in front of them.

“I have no doubt of that. There is more than one way to solve any given problem. I’ve watched you long enough to know that is true. But if you want control and peace without bloodshed, we need to force all three of them to work together. So don’t just find information; find something we can use on each of them to force cooperation.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Cullen set his hand on top of Eilan’s for a very brief second. “You always do, Inquisitor.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've yet to allow harm to come to Celene in my play-thrus, but I have to admit I've been strongly tempted to hand things over to Briala or even Gaspard instead. In terms of Eilan's playing the piano, I felt I wanted Florianne to do a little more than make Eilan dance with her. And I've been listening a lot to the Piano Guys so I felt some dramatic piano stuff would be sort of fun to add.
> 
> The next update should be on Wednesday. I think there's about two or three chapters of Halamshiral left. Possibly more since I'm still writing this section. I have to say I'm looking forward to being done with the Winter Palace, but I hope it's making for an entertaining read.


	37. Chapter 37

*

After all of his advisors were gone, Eilan headed for the fountain, lightly tossing in Caprice coins and making one wish after another for the Ball to end properly.

Guests began to trickle out slowly. They sorted themselves into their own groups of friends and random strangers to mingle and gossip with.

Maevaris and Dorian wandered out again together. They were, once again, chatting in Tevene-- most likely to make it clear to anyone else that they weren’t to be included in their conversation.

Anders sat down on a bench nearby, his back to Eilan and his hood still up.

“Can I ask you something?” Eilan asked quietly, staring at water.

“If you like.”

“I don’t know… That is, what would help…matters?”

“Here? Well, having an actual peace talk couldn’t hurt.”

“And if you were trying to arrange one… What would you do?”

“Oh dear,” Anders said. “I appreciate you seeking my advice so immediately, but I’m rather the quintessential wrong person to ask.”

“Who would be the right person?”

“Morrigan. Or my wife. Then again, I direct most people towards Maevaris so I could be biased in my wife’s favor.”

Eilan laughed. “How often do you refer to her as your wife?”

“Oh, as often as I can. I think the most I managed was five times in a sentence, but it’s the little things in life, don’t you think?”

“I suppose.” 

“It does occur to me – and this will sound a bit maudlin -- but the right person to ask is probably you yourself, Inquisitor.”

“How so?”

“Look at all you’ve done by virtue of finally being yourself,” Anders said a tad wistfully. “Why stop now?”

“Maker’s Breath, but you two are the absolute worst at parties,” Maevaris said, joining Eilan at the fountain. “You would do well to dance with someone else, Inquisitor.”

“Because it would cheer me up?”

“Because it would be a mistake to only dance with the Grand Duchess. You never know where the night will take you. Or her for that matter.”

“Far away would suit me,” Anders muttered.

“We live in hope, don’t we, amatus?”

“Nothing else for it,” Anders agreed.

Eilan smiled, looking over at Maevaris. “Um. Would you dance with me?”

She chuckled gently. “Aren’t you adorable? I would, but I shudder to think that all of this strutting about and switching arms is seen as actual dancing. It’s more like an afternoon on a rather busy farm.”

Eilan laughed. “That’s not fair. How am I to dance at all after that mental image?”

“It might be more fun now, actually. All right. Come on and dance with a married woman then, Trevelyan. A little scandal does wonders for morale.”

“I’ll pretend to care or not to care or…which is it?” Anders asked.

Maevaris smiled. “Do as you like, dear. Within reason, of course. And don’t cause any trouble while I’m gone.”

*

“Your performance was lovely.” Maevaris said as they moved to the dance floor.

“Thank you.”

“This is the worst sort of dancing,” Maevaris said as they joined the couples out on the floor. “You’ll really have to visit Tevinter once this whole ugly business is over.”

“Once it’s possible, I’d like to,” Eilan quietly admitted.

“You’re a very young and good person,” Maevaris observed. “You should work on that.”

Eilan laughed.

“I mean it. Don’t let these people walk all over you. Dancing and playing the piano is one thing, but you need to own the room and everything in it.”

“I don’t know that I—”

“When your winsome personality is not enough-- and I imagine it’s been enough a great deal of the time—you need to resort to more drastic measures.”

“Such as?”

“Everything. Anything. Blackmail. Coercion. So little of what is truly worth achieving is ever handed to us solely through savory means.”

“I suppose, but I don’t… want to hurt anyone. And I don’t want to…”

Maevaris raised an eyebrow.

“It’s just… I want the peace talks to go well.”

“You needn’t beat anyone into submission or allow them to do worse than that to one another. They’re not all playing this little game, if you notice. The Empress has been regal and forthright all evening long. Not that it does her much good, but it does her some credit.”

Eilan hadn’t thought of it that way. “I… Maybe it does.”

“You’re so troubled, it’s very sweet but it’s also unnecessary. You’re not Orlesian, which we can all thank the Maker for.”

Eilan smiled.

“It’s one thing to respect their grand old and fussy traditions, but the reason you learned how to play the Game is so that you know when it’s high time to stop.”

“Do you think so?”

“Of course I do. So much of this Great Game of theirs is absolutely ridiculous and it is even more so with countless hired goons running amuck. And assassins, my word,” Maevaris said with a sigh. “Such practices are so outdated and impractical. I should advise avoiding becoming too engrossed in the spectacle or deciding on very expedient solutions to a larger issue. After all, how does it look for the Inquisition if its leader just eliminates people that are difficult to work with? How does it look for your Inquisition if you fail to save her altogether?”

“How do you know…”

“Darling, I’m from Tevinter. I live and breathe this sort of thing. So you must believe me when I tell you that a decent number of the guests here are just as well informed as you or I. What good is coin if you do not spend it?”

“You mean that others know or at the very least suspect that there will be an attack later tonight?”

“Why do you think most of them are here, dear? The food? The architecture? Celene herself?” Maevaris shook her head. “They know what is to come, and you can see how they handle it. They remain here, grinning and circling about the room, like so many sharks.”

“And any one of them could say something. Any one of them could tell her.”

“Only to be dismissed as foolish. Stick to what you are so good at, Inquisitor. Make alliances. Gather influence. Speak insightfully. Listen when you don’t have anything to say. And do look after my cousin, won’t you? It’s something I never thought to ask of his other friends, and I wish I had.”

“But we’ll talk again.”

“Certainly.”

Maevaris gave him the one dance, passing him off to another noblewoman when it was over. Before he’d stopped to think about it, he’d danced with five women in a row. Then he visited with Josephine and her sister for a time.

Afterwards, he attempted to speak to Celene only to learn that Her Imperial Majesty was occupied at the moment. Which… sounded a bit wrong. Eilan suspected it was Bull’s corrupting influence.

He found Briala on her own balcony, the sky above her dark and stormy. He asked her about the peace talks, and what she was hoping to gain from the negotiations.

“A voice,” she answered. “Simple enough, isn’t it? My people have none. We’ve lived for centuries amid the lowest ranks of society. No one hears us. No one sees us. If the elves of Halamshiral were elevated… If we had an elven noble at court? We’d have recognition, a voice.”

Her request seemed more than a little simple and rather obvious. Why, Eilan wondered, had this not already come to pass? “It would be a good start,” he assured her.

“It would. We can’t remake the world overnight, but there’s no reason not to try to reshape it. If people in power can no longer ignore us, they will have no choice but to listen. Right now, we are not players in the Great Game, we’re scenery.”

“How will you persuade the Empress to elevate an elf to nobility?”

“It is already in place. Celene knows she needs us to tip the balance of the civil war in her favor. All we have to do is wait. She’ll exhaust her other options and come to us for help. Then we’ll name our price.”

That made Eilan feel a bit better and yet infinitely worse. It was becoming crystal clear that Celene was not an ideal choice, but he couldn’t see himself allowing anyone here to be done away with. He wasn’t, as Maevaris had pointed out, Orlesian. To silence any voice through any means, be it religious dogma, murder, or willful ignorance… It wasn’t right. He couldn’t be the one to do it.

Despite that being the case, he understood that the Empress needed to be given a chance to actually do something besides sit around hoping for the best. It was hard to know what she could do when no one was willing to actually work together. Once she had the aid and direction she needed, the Inquisition could guide her and possibly mold her into a leader worth having. If not, Eilan and his advisors would have to be more exacting and demanding in their instructions to her.

“But that’s the future,” Briala admitted. “We need to focus on the task at hand.”

“Working on it,” Eilan assured her, holding up the anchor.

She scoffed, crossing her arms, but she smiled just the same. “How many puns do you get to make with that thing?”

“Not as many as you’d think." He hesitated then: "There's something else I'd like to discuss. If I may.” 

“Tell me. Unless it is another handy quip.”

Eilan grinned, expression sobering immediately as he asked: “What happens to your plans if something were to happen to the Empress?”

“The situation for us is… precarious. It is possible that matters would be worse without her. I’ve been working with Gaspard, but he’s like a charging bull. It would be easier either way if I had something that could hurt him.”

“I see. We’ll speak more, Ambassador.”

“I should hope so, Inquisitor.”

He nodded, bowing slightly before leaving her. It was well past time that he headed to the Royal Wing.

*

As luck would have it, the first person they found in the Royal Quarters was the Harlequin. She was in the process of menacing another elven servant, crouched with her daggers drawn. The elven servant had been shrieking, and was clearly seconds away from being slaughtered.

Eilan charged at the assassin, kicking her out the window before he could consider a ranged attack, which, in hindsight, would have been more prudent.

Varric, Bull, and Blackwall seemed to find it particularly amusing.

Dorian just offered up a slow clap, before going over to the window and peering out. “Oh good. Quite dead.”

It ended up that the frightened servant had been sent to the wing by Briala in order to search Florianne’s rooms. She was so overwhelmed by the experience that she spoke a great deal without much prodding even going as far as to mention rather scandalous details about Briala’s affair with the Empress. In order to secure protection, she was willing to not only testify but share everything she knew about Ambassador Briala with the Inquisition.

“Go to the ballroom,” Eilan gently told her when they’d reached an accord. “Find Commander Cullen. He’ll keep you safe.”

“He’s easy to find,” Dorian added. “He’s the one surrounded by women and quite unhappy about it.”

“That’s half the people at this party,” Blackwall pointed out. 

"Very well," Dorian said with a sigh. "Look for a blond man wearing the same uniform as us, and he'll help you."

“Thank you,” the servant said. “Maker protect you, Inquisitor.” And then she darted away from them.

“Told you the sister’s worth looking into,” Bull said as they moved on to searching other rooms. And looting, of course. “Nice punt, by the way. Cute.”

“Cute?”

“Yeah.”

“I suppose… I ought to feel at least vaguely bad about it. I’m not usually a very violent person,” Eilan said with a frown.

Bull shrugged. “I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“No point,” Varric agreed. “You just keep going with your gut when it tells you to punch a Magister or kick a Harlequin out a window, Inquisitor. It’s the right thing to do, think of the great story you get to tell Hawke back at Skyhold.”

“There is that,” Eilan was forced to concede.

“Hello? Is somebody there? Anybody?”

They all glanced in the direction of a closed door. Eilan moved over to it, unsurprised that it was locked, and glad Varric was able to help them get inside.

“Oh dear,” he said as they moved over to the man tied down and menaced on to a gilded bed with only a helmet on.

“Oh Orlesians,” Dorain said with a chuckle.

“It’s not what it looks like,” the Orlesian guard said. “Honestly, I would have preferred it if it were what it looks like. The Empress led me to believe that I would be rewarded for betraying the Grand Duke. This… was not what I hoped for.”

Eilan sighed inwardly. It was one thing to undervalue servants and guards. It was another to think you could use them time and time and again before it led to your undoing. He was tempted to ask if this was true, but honestly he was beginning to run out of patience with giving Orlesians the benefit of the doubt.

“Please, I beg you. Don’t tell Gaspard. The Empress beguiled me into giving her information about plans for troop movements in the palace tonight. She knows everything. Everything. The Duke’s surprise attack has been countered before it ever began.”

“One sympathizes,” Dorian muttered.

“She’s turned it into a trap. The moment he strikes, she’ll have him arrested for treason.”

Oh no she wouldn’t. It was one thing to allow these three fools to work together, but he was not allowing the Empress to gain the upper hand. Not when she’d been so particularly unhelpful and absent.

It was a simple matter to get the guard to agree to testify. All he had to offer was protection from Gaspard and to untie him. The actual untying Eilan left to Bull who grumbled about how amateur the knots were as he unknotted them. Eilan found the man some clothes, however, and then sent him off to find Cullen.

“I’m thinking trap,” Dorian said as they moved to what seemed to be an unfinished corridor leading out to the Royal Wing garden. “Yes. Definitely.”

“Couldn’t be anything else,” Blackwall said. “So no kicking things without the rest of us, Inquisitor.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Eilan promised.

“And before we go in there, I just want to make sure we all agree that this is obviously Florianne,” Bull said. “The other three are too petty and possibly too fucking stupid to do anything besides try to upstage one another.”

“Almost goes without saying,” Varric agreed. “Pretty obvious from the beginning too.”

Out in the courtyard, a dozen or so archers were assembled around a rift.

“Inquisitor,” a familiar voice said. “What a pleasant surprise.” The Grand Duchess was moving along the edge of a balcony one floor up. “I wasn’t certain you’d attend. You’re such a challenge to read. I had no idea if you’d taken my bait. I--”

“Look, lady,” Bull said. “Stop, okay? This ain’t pleasant, it’s in no way surprising, and this sure ain’t much of a trap. Hell, it isn’t even much of a party, but then,” and here Bull shrugged, “you planned it.”

The Duchess hesitated, frowning. “Do you mind? I am in the middle of explaining that Coryp—”

“What part of no one actually cares don’t you get?” Bull asked her. “Move on to the part where you leave and we fight things.”

“Very well, Inquisitor, it is a pity—“ she gasped, ducking as a fireball shot past her head. “You! You are not playing the Game correctly, Inquisitor.”

“That’s because we’re not playing a game,” Eilan pointed out. He didn’t feel that there was anything more to say seeing as Bull had summarized his feelings quite succinctly. “Be seeing you,” he added before sending another fireball into the middle of the archers surrounding them.

“Kill him,” Florianne shouted from her balcony. “And bring me his marked hand!”

Eilan rolled out of the way of several arrows before heading for the rift itself.

All in all, it wasn’t difficult to handle all of the terrible nonsense that poured out of the rift. Blackwall and Bull bludgeoned plenty of demons with Dorian and Eilan providing powerful spells and support. At the same time, Varric and Bianca made short work of the all too human archers.

They paused long enough to ensure that the Ferelden mercenary was willing to testify against Gaspard. Like the servant and guard before him, he was severely agitated by what he’d witnessed and more than willing to do wrong by his employer. And with that settled, they pressed on, looting and heading as swiftly as they could to the Grand Ballroom.

*

This time, Eilan did not bother slowing down until he was at the very door to the ballroom. Without waiting for the right number of chimes, he headed inside, smirking when he saw Florianne across the way with Gaspard beside her. The Grand Duke’s arms were crossed and the Duchess’ expression was judgmental but he imagined she was nervous.

Cullen sighed heavily as he joined him. “Thank the Maker you’re back. The Empress will begin her speech soon. What should we do?”

“I’m going to have a word with the Grand Duchess.”

“What?” Cullen asked, managing to keep his voice down. “Sweetheart, there’s no time. I just told you. The Empress will begin her speech any moment.”

“Oh, she’ll still give her speech, I’m sure,” Eilan said wearily. “Just wait here, please.”

“Very well.”

Eilan headed across the dance floor to where the Duchess stood. Briala had come to stand beside Florianne and her brother.

“We owe the court one more show, Your Grace,” Eilan said loudly, abruptly ending the other conversations taking place throughout the crowded room.

She turned slowly. “Inquisitor.”

“I’m giving you a chance to end this peacefully.” Eilan began walking up the stairs towards her. “You ought to choose your allies more carefully. Corypheus is using you as he has used so many others. If you continue to work for his cause, I can assure you that there will be one causality this evening.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really?” Eilan asked. He turned to face the nobles around them. “How droll,” he said. “Grand Duchess Florianne has quite forgotten about trying to kill me in the gardens just a moment ago.”

“Curious,” he added, folding his arms behind his back and allowing for a few gasps from those listening, “Let me try to jog your memory, Your Grace.” He began to walk around her. “Do you remember arranging for your brother to be here so that everyone would be watching him while you carried out your plan? Do you recall having the Council emissary stumble into the wrong room to find the assassins you hired so you could pin the blame on the Grand Duke?”

Florianne was silent.

“The Empress, your brother, the entire court, and the Inquisition as your guests,” Eilan said as he stopped in front of her. “What a tempting target for Corypheus. You do remember him at the very least, I’m certain of that.”

Another series of gasps and nobles looking aghast even though it was likely most of them had known something unsavory was taking place in their midst.

“This is very entertaining,” Florianne began, “but you do not imagine anyone believes your wild stories?”

“That will be a matter for a judge to decide, cousin,” Empress Celene said as she moved out to join them.

The Grand Duchess looked down, and then sought out her brother’s gaze. “Gaspard? You cannot believe this! You know I would never…”

Whether he believed her or not—and Eilan was inclined to believe Gaspard believed his sister quite capable of stabbing him in the back-- Gaspard could not support her. To do so would been political and social suicide. Instead, he turned his back on her following Briala to another set of stairs leading away from his sibling.

“Gaspard?” Florianne backed away as masked guards approached her.

“Take her away,” Eilan suggested, moving away from them and focusing his attention on Celene. “Your Imperial Majesty, I think we should speak in private. Elsewhere.”

*

Had Florianne been the only one actively attempting to sabotage the peace talks, the conversation with Celene, Gaspard, and Briala might have been a short, pleasant one. Instead it took nearly half an hour to reconcile them, and to force cooperation. Eilan arranged for Briala to be made a noble, refused to allow Gaspard to be banished from court, and explained to Celene some compromises had to be made.

It took scandalous testimony, optimistic blustering, and veiled threats to force them to work together. And not just together but for the Inquisition with the understanding that, should they fail to manage the Empire, it would be given to someone else who could. It would have been an unsavory threat had it not merely been a statement of fact. If they couldn’t be trusted to do with right thing without blackmail and badgering then Eilan wasn’t going to be able to take a hands-off approach with them.

Back in the Grand Ballroom, the three of them made a speech together, and Eian stood by them as they each took a turn.  
Gaspard explained that they were the leaders of the Empire, and needed to set an example for Thedas. Their on-going war needed to be set aside to confront a larger problem, namely that of the Fade.

Celene added that the peace needed to be celebrated. That change and progress would come to her court, and that Briala was to be Marquise of the Dales.

The Ambassador spoke next of what her people and humans could accomplish as they worked together. Their alliance would affect not only the court, but the fight against against Corypheus: the enemy who had robbed them of their beloved Divine and torn open the skies.

Eilan mustered up a smile before saying a few words about how he was with this development, and how much he looked forward to working with the Empire. In reality, he felt only exhausted and a tad disappointed that their help had come with so many strings attached. He also felt uncertain as to whether he believed them.

Their speech was met with some confusion but mostly with loud applause and cheerful shouting. Drinks were passed around, and boisterous toasts began.

The thought of celebrating was a good one in theory, but Eilan headed to the balcony. A flurry of approving nods and loud well-wishes followed him out the large doors.

Morrigan followed him to the railing. “The Orlesian nobility make drunken toasts to your victory, and yet you are not present to hear them? Do you tire so quickly of their congratulations, Inquisitor? ‘Tis most fickle after all your efforts on their behalf?”

“I needed some air. Some space,” he quietly admitted. “And they seemed to have run out of champagne well before a glass was sent my way, which was quite discouraging.”

Morrigan chuckled. “Indeed? Let us see if you take this piece of news so poorly. By Imperial decree, I have been named liaison to the Inquisition. Celene wishes to offer you any and all aid—including mine.”

“That is probably the best news I’ve heard in hours.”

“You may come to regret saying so.”

“And you may never know how absolutely dreadful the last few hours have been. I understand she gave you the task, but it is one that you are… That is, do you mind?”

Morrigan smiled. “You will require my knowledge if you are to defeat Corypheus. He is a threat to Orlais. To Thedas. And to myself. Thus, I am not opposed to the appointment.”

“And I am not either as I’m sure is perfectly obvious,” Eilan said, returning her smile. “Welcome to the Inquisition, Morrigan,” he added, bowing slightly. “It’ll be excellent to work with you.”

“A most gracious response. I shall meet you at Skyhold.”

She left, and Eilan let his shoulders slump as he leaned over the balcony. Yawning, he ran his hands over the railing and wondered how soon he'd be able to leave Halamshiral behind him.

“There you are!” Cullen called out, approaching him. “Everyone’s been looking for you.”

“Please don’t tell them where I am,” Eilan insisted. He’d meant it to sound as a joke, but there was a hint of desperation coloring his tone.

Cullen joined him by the railing, leaning over and kissing his cheek. “I would never,” he promised. “But I can assure you that things have calmed down. Are you all right?”

“I suppose,” Eilan said with a shrug. “I feel a bit… that is… Things went somewhat according to plan at least. Small thanks to the majority of those involved, but that isn’t surprising so much as disheartening.”

Cullen sighed. “I understand completely. This whole operation had me on edge. I’m very glad it’s over.”

“Did it?” Eilan asked, glancing up.

Cullen set a hand on Eilan’s shoulder. “I know it’s foolish, but I was worried for you tonight.”

Eilan set a hand over Cullen. Behind them came laughter and Cullen was smiling in that wonderfully charming way of his. And it was reassuring. Perfect, really. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “For worrying. For being… you. And everything.”

“Of course, sweetheart. Who else would I be? It occurs to me, however, that I may never have another chance like this, so I must ask.” He moved away slightly, bowing and hold out a hand. “May I have this dance?”

“I love you,” Eilan said quietly.

Cullen smiled. “Is that a yes then?”

“Yes.”

They stayed out on the balcony, moving to the faint music. Cullen’s smile remained, widening slightly and turning sheepish the one or two times he stepped on Eilan’s feet. When the dance was over, Eilan kissed him soundly and fiercely, hoping to convey just how much Cullen meant to him.

During the next piece, which was a slower waltz, Eilan just rested his head against Cullen’s shoulder while the Commander swayed them, humming along. 

“I guess I’m not as much into dancing as one might hope.”

“Nothing about this moment has failed to live up to my hopes,” Cullen promised.

Eilan smiled slightly. “Hm. What about your dreams?”

Cullen chuckled. “It measures up to all of my fondest wishes, dreams, and desires," he said, kissing Eilan's hair. "So you needn’t worry, my love.”

“Aw,” Bull said as he joined them. “I’m almost glad they ran out of food otherwise I’d have missed this. How are we doing?”

“Never better,” Cullen said.

“Tired,” Eilan mumbled.

“Too tired to dance then?” Bull asked.

“I didn’t say that.” Eilan kissed Cullen again before moving away. He tugged Bull over by one arm, but only because Bull wasn’t as unwilling as he sounded. “Dancing. You promised.”

“Yeah, I know. Might as well get it over with. I’ll give him back to you in a minute or so, Cullen.”

“See that you do.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wasn't sure I'd manage to write anything for today, but happily I was wrong. I think it's just that I've been feeling really discouraged and just sort of down in terms of writing. I'm working on getting over it though so the next update should be on Monday. 
> 
> I hope no one will be very sad to say farewell to Halamshiral. I honestly thought it would take a lot longer to be done with this quest, but I think moving things along is better. I'm looking forward to other side quests, dragon-slaying, a possible Road Trip to the Grand Tourney, and nonsense before moving on to the last few fights.


	38. Chapter 38

*

Eilan woke up bright and early, feeling feverish, which meant going back to bed. He wasn’t happy when Cullen left, and he didn’t like it when Bull left either, but he kept his eyes closed, wanting to sleep. So he slept. After all, he deserved some rest, and it wasn't like they were heading back to Skyhold immediately. The Inquisition had the run of the borrowed estate for as long as they required it. 

What felt like minutes later, the mattress dipped down and large warm hand shook his shoulder.

“Don’t,” he said hoarsely. His eyes felt watery and his nose felt stuffed up. There was a pressure in the center of his forehead that he found worrisome even though he knew it was only pressure from his sinuses. “Please don’t, Bull.”

“Aw, kadan… I know, but it’s nearly noon, and you don’t sleep in. Ever. So this is me making sure you’re still… you know, alive or whatever.”

“Still alive,” Eilan mumbled. He sighed happily when Bull kissed his forehead then blinked, laughing as Bull sniffed then licked at his neck. “And sleeping. What are you…”

“Making sure you’re not poisoned.”

“…is that how you check?”

“It’s how I check. Neck’s a good spot to nick you and get shit into your bloodstream. The thigh’s the best but that requires a lot of hands-on stuff you would have noticed before now. And considering what we did last night and how quickly the expensive poisons work, you’re just a little sick.”

“Which you already knew before you licked—hey.” Eilan laughed again as Bull licked a wide strip along his throat before nuzzling him. “Enough of that. I don’t want you to get what I have.”

“Can’t. Colds only happen to humans. And probably elves.”

“Really?”

“Probably,” Bull said with a shrug. “You’re both on the dainty side.”

“I’m not dainty.”

“Dainter then. And it’s not your fault you’re sick, kadan. Sucks that it waited until after the shitty ball though. Sometimes I think that if you didn’t have me, you’d have no luck at all.”

“It sure seems like it.” Eilan yawned, smiling when he opened his eyes. The Qunari had moved so that Bull was all but draped over him like a blanket. Eilan shifted, turning over so he could face Bull.

“There’s something on your horns,” he said, brushing a finger along the finished warmers. “Cullen finally gave them to you then.” He’d embellished the designs of the Inquisition eye and the templar sword. He’d also added blue and green tassels. 

“Uh, yeah. About that. I think they’re gonna be something that we don’t talk about outside of the bedroom.”

“Aw, but I like them,” Eilan said, batting at one of the tassels. He smiled wearily when Bull glared.

Bull sighed, ruffling Eilan’s hair and looking defeated. “The worst part is they’re really nice, you know? They’re pretty and warm and soft and I like ‘em. I mean, I wish they were even a little pink, but still. I like ‘em.”

Eilan stroked the bridge of Bull’s nose. “What’s the problem then?”

Bull snorted. “The problem is that everyone else can see ‘em.”

“I doubt that— Well, I’m sure not— You’re right. It would be ill-advised to wear them anywhere near the others. Particularly Dorian or Vivienne.”

“Exactly.”

Eilan yawned. “Hm. What if Dagna could manage a cloaking rune or something?”

“That would be pretty cool. Just… don’t tell Cullen. Yet. I mean, he just gave ‘em to me and I don’t want to be an asshole about it. Lots of work went into this.”

“I’m hardly going to seek him out at the moment.”

“I should probably go tell him and the other two about your cold before they break down the door to harass you with piles of paperwork.”

Eilan gave Bull a worried look, which he promptly ruined by sneezing. “Um. There aren’t piles, surely.”

“Maybe just a pile,” Bull assured him. “But there’s also a stack of invitations. Lots of nobles want you at their parties now.”

Eilan groaned. “What? How can that be?”

“You’re a novelty at the moment. Er, celebrity, I mean. And some of ‘em just want Cullen there to try and marry him off.”

“That settles that then. I don’t want to go to a party.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Bull agreed, kissing Eilan’s forehead. “You are staying right here. I’ll be back. I’ll get you some stew or soup.”

“And some of those ginger snaps Sera made. And tea please? With a lemon?”

Bull blinked, brow furrowing slightly. “Uh, sure, I guess. What kind of tea?”

“What kind do we have?”

Bull grunted. “I want to help you and look after you while you’re sick… But this ain’t a café, kadan. Tea’s tea as far as I’m concerned. Now if you want hot chocolate, I know there is a mint kind in the kitchen. That stuff’s really good. Better for you.”

“Not really,” Eilan said. “Hot chocolate is probably not a good idea when I have a cold.”

“Colds are the worst,” Bull said sympathetically.

“They are. Can you just get some hot water then? And the lemon? Just a wedge, really. And then the box of herbs in the dresser over...” Eilan gestured about the room without looking. “Somewhere in here?”

“Depends. What’s the room gonna smell like when you’re done?”

“Chamomile, I imagine.”

“Not elfroot?”

“Only a hint. I don’t know.” Eilan curled up against the pillows as Bull got out of bed. He wanted the Qunari to stay but he was looking forward to not having to talk and going back to sleep. “Head hurts.”

“I’m sure it does,” Bull murmured. “All right. I’ll be back whenever I’m done bringing you your dozens of things.”

Eilan chuckled faintly, head buried in a pillow. “I’ll be here.”

*

Eilan woke up with a start and settled when Bull covered him with more blankets. “Just me so no getting up. All your crap’s here,” he said, indicating the table he must have brought in from another room. “Everyone wants to see you. I told ‘em to wait. Don’t need the Inquisition taken out of commission by a cold.”

“Hm. I wonder how that would make Corypheus feel.”

“That’s the only positive. The look on his crusty face would probably be awesome. Probably kill himself out of embarrassment and save us some trouble.”

“That would be good, but colds aren’t lethal.”

“I’m oddly okay with that,” Bull deadpanned. “So. Hot water with lemon and some kind of… steeper whatever thing… Which of these dried herbs am I putting into it?”

“I could—”

“You try sitting up and I’ll have to hold you down. Which I’d like but you could probably do without.”

“You wouldn’t like it if I sneezed on you.”

“There is that. So. Herbs. Nice of you to label ‘em.”

“And I keep the poisonous ones in their own box,” Eilan agreed. He closed his eyes, trying to concentrate. His head felt fuzzy. “Generous amount of chamomile. Pinch of royal elfroot and crystal grace. I’ll have to take more of it later.”

“That’s fine. Cullen already sent Cole, Sera, Dorian, Blackwall, and Varric to get more herbs. He was going to send ‘em somewhere anyway.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, Sera’s managed to piss of every servant here. And these cookies she made? She nearly set the whole place on fire. Plus Cole creeped ‘em all out.”

“Didn’t I leave other people here?”

“Yeah, you left Krem which is why it didn't end up being a lot worse. As it is just the wallpaper in the kitchen needs some replacing. Everything else is fine.”

“I suppose I ought to pay him a little bit more.”

“Already sorted that out with Josie. Week’s worth of hazard pay. Dunno if he deserves it though considering what he spent the night working on.”

“Oh?”

Bull tossed something soft and pink at him, which all but bounced off his head before it landed on the bed in front of him. “You keep an eye on this thing while I get your tea ready.”

“I think…” Eilan turned the velveteen toy over in his hands. “Is this really a little nug with wings?”

Bull was sorting out the herbs, sitting in a chair near the bed. He looked up and smirked. “It really is. Back in Haven, when we still had all those trebuchets, we wanted to see if they could fly. Cullen rejected the idea.”

Eilan laughed. “Aw, that’s no fun. I’m surprised you didn’t tell me.”

“That was early on. Figured you’d be a stick-in-the-mud about it. I guess that saying about assuming is true.”

“What saying?”

“To assume is… I dunno. Something about me enjoying an ass, right?”

“Makes an ass out of you and me.”

“Nope. The one I heard was definitely about appreciating a great ass. And I will always appreciate yours. And you can keep the nug. Krem was going to give it to you anyway. Never makes me anything anymore.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah. Let’s get you upright,” Bull said, setting the mug down and lightly pulling the mage up against the pillows. “Here’s your stew first.”

*

Eventually Cullen joined them. He entered with paperwork tucked under his arm in what was probably an attempt to be stealthy, but Bull yanked it out of his grip with a frown.

“Give that back,” Cullen insisted.

“If and when you head out the door? Sure. Until then? No work allowed.”

“This is for me, not for Eilan.”

“No work allowed,” Bull said stubbornly, putting the pile on top of a very tall wardrobe. It was a spot that neither human would be able to reach.

“Oh very well. I’d like the book back at least.”

Bull reached up, pulling down a thin blue book and inspecting it. “What’s this?”

“Something by Varric. I figured a little leisurely reading won’t hurt.”

“Is it about the warrior woman?”

“No, it’s about an elven mage and a pirate. It’s a new series.”

“I want to hear that one.”

“And you will.” Cullen moved around the bed. He kissed Eilan’s hair, adjusting pillows before pulling a chair out from the desk and sitting down next to Bull. “So you’ve a cold then?”

“I suppose. It’s hardly worth fussing over. Too much, I mean.”

“Only if you’re resting, which you seem to be doing.”

“I’ll get more hot water,” Bull offered. “And stew. Anything else, kadan?”

“Biscuits.”

“All right. Cullen?”

“Coffee if you can manage it.”

“And?”

Cullen glanced up. “Hm?”

“And?”

“And nothing. Just coffee. Black. If you can manage it. If not, I’m fine.”

“I like that about you.”

“I’m sick,” Eilan said with a frown that only increased in severity until Bull finally gave in.

The Qunari leaned over, kissing him on the lips and ruffling his hair. “I know.”

“Show off,” Cullen muttered when Bull had left. “I’d like to kiss you too, but I don’t need a cold.”

“Sorry,” Eilan said, smiling when Cullen took up his hand and kissed the back of it.

“Don’t be. You’ve done a great deal lately, and there’s a lot of pressure on you. You also used a lot of Winter spells on yourself during the carriage ride to Halamshiral. I imagine that’s why you have a cold. Thank the Maker, it’s not something more serious or related to your mark.”

“I do sort of like the idea of resting.”

“Right, and nothing immediate needs tending to at this moment. Nothing that won’t keep until our return to Skyhold, at any rate.”

“Or at least until I have more brain cells available,” Eilan said, sighing and leaning back against the headboard. “I suppose I did over-do it. Slightly, but I feel a bit ridiculous.”

“You’re not allowed to feel ridiculous if I’m not allowed to feel guilty that you’re ill.”

Eilan raised an eyebrow.

“I might have tried to… Only you don’t need a minder, and I would feel rather uncomfortable using my templar training on you.”

“I need better control. More practice, I suppose. Maybe we could spar.”

“We could in time, but I wonder if an amulet would help. Maybe something with cold resistance.”

“It’s a thought. I’ll look when we’re in Val Royeaux. And I’ll mention it to Dagna when I… Oh. Wait. Um, never mind.”

“When you what?” Cullen prompted. “And I’ll be able to tell if you make something up.”

“Then don’t be upset,” Eilan began, “but the horn warmers… It’s just that while Bull really likes them, he doesn’t want to wear them where other people are. Besides, you and me, I mean.”

Cullen laughed, and the sound of it was warm, not to mention rather comforting.

“Is that alright?”

“Of course, sweetheart. Maker’s Breath, can you imagine? No one would resist mocking him. No, he shouldn’t wear them about the place. They’re more for cold nights in Emprise du Lion than for daily use.”

“Oh. He’ll be relieved.”

Cullen shook his head. “My feelings are not so fragile as all that. I’m working on something for you, but unfortunately it’s not done yet.”

“Krem gave me something too. Or, well, Bull gave it to me but Krem made it,” Eilan said, holding up the nug.

Cullen frowned, eyeing the stuffed toy as though they were mortal enemies. “Not one of those again.”

“You don’t think they’re cute?”

“They’re adorable but they kept showing up in the trebuchets back in Haven even after I explained that we could not spend time seeing how far they could fly. I have several in my rooms because Krem keeps giving them to me.” Cullen sighed heavily. “I thought about plugging the hole in my roof with them at one point.”

Eilan laughed. “You didn’t.”

“I did not, for it would have been ludicrously impractical. Instead, I give them to soldiers and scouts having a difficult time adjusting to lives away from… Well, their mothers in most cases.”

“That’s rather sweet.”

“Leliana tells me it has been known to improve morale.”

“How so?”

“Shows that my bark is considerably worse than my bite. That sort of thing. Now, why would you bring the horn warmers to Dagna.”

“A cloaking rune.”

“I could be wrong, of course, but… I’m not entirely sure there is such a thing, my love.”

Eilan sighed. “Oh. Maybe not. But I rather liked the idea, and so did Bull…”

Cullen kissed Eilan’s hair. “I’m sure he’ll understand. I think some sleep would do you a world of good. Shall I read to you?”

“Yes, please.”

*

Eilan woke up sometime later in a dark room on his own. He could hear Bull talking to someone in the office attached to the bedroom he’d been given. Cullen and Dorian. Solas, maybe?

Something landed on his shoulder, and Eilan bit back a yelp.

“Sorry, sorry,” Cole said, moving back. He moved to the table near the bed and held up a candlestick. “Light might help.”

“Yes, I think it would.” Eilan sneezed then lit the candlewick before falling back against his pillows. “Hello, Cole.”

“Hello, I’ve brought flowers.”

“Oh, that’s… very sweet.”

“I dropped them.”

“Well, that’s all right. You should pick them up. I’ll still be here.”

Cole tilted his head. “Where would you go?”

“That’s a fair point,” Eilan murmured as Cole knelt down to gather up whatever bouquet he’d brought. “How has your day been?”

“Bright and warm. The walls are gone. The forest is vast. Light pours in through the leaves of ancient trees. We are foraging for herbs. And then we are laughing although I am not sure why. A joke?”

“It might be. Sometimes Dorian and Varric think they’re clever and they’re not.”

Cole glanced up smiling. “I have noticed. Here. Flowers.”

Eilan blinked, a bit overwhelmed by the substantial amount of flowers he was handed. “Cole… However did you find so much crystal grace?”

“That’s the one I got assigned to look for, and you needed it. Cullen said.

“You did a very good job. I was nearly out.”

“And you are still sick.”

Eilan nodded and winced. “Just a cold.”

“You ought to rest more. I will leave and bring these to the Commander.”

“I’d appreciate that. I don’t think there’s enough room on the bed for them anyway.”

“Probably not. Sera is cross. She didn’t find as much of her herb. But then no one did so I’m not sure why she is so upset with me.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about it,” Eilan assured him, almost patting Cole’s hand. But he wasn’t sure if Cole could get sick or not, and he certainly didn’t care to find out. “Her cookies turned out good. If you told her as much, perhaps she would be happier.”

“Are there any left?” Cole asked and then he frowned. “No, you rest. I’ll ask the Iron Bull.”

“There’s a few,” Bull said, joining them and giving Cole a look. “What did I say, kid?”

“You said not to sneak in here, The Iron Bull, but I didn’t sneak in here. I walked in through the door.”

Bull rolled his eye. “Yeah, well, don’t do it again. No sneaking or walking in. ‘Check the lock, then knock,’ remember?”

“I did check the lock. I wouldn’t have picked it.”

“There’s that at least. But when someone’s sick, you gotta leave ‘em be even if you’re bringing flowers. No harm done though.”

Cole nodded. “No harm,” he agreed, and then he left.

Eilan grinned. “Did you make up a little rhyme for him?”

Bull grunted. “The words rhyme. ‘Sides, someone’s gotta tell him about this kind of thing or he’ll walk in on all sorts of shit he doesn’t need to see. Huh,” the qunari added as he got into the bed. “Probably should add something about a nasty shock. Later. More tea?”

“Yes. Did you eat?”

“While you were sleeping, yeah. Had hot chocolate too, but figured it’s better to drink it elsewhere.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Eilan insisted. “You have more of a sweet tooth than I do.”

“Dunno,” Bull said, toying with Eilan’s necklace. “I think we both got pretty sweet teeth.”

Eilan groaned. “Oh no. I am far too sick for puns.”

“Must be,” Bull murmured soothingly. “You usually like ‘em.”

Eilan yawned and then sneezed. “Usually I do but not right now.”

“So nothing about how even though you’re sick and kinda gross, you’re still just as toothsome as ever?”

Eilan smiled. “That’s a bit clever. I sort of like that one, actually.”

Bull kissed him before pulling down to the bed. “Figured you would.”

*

The following morning, his advisors seemed to feel brave enough to approach him, or perhaps Bull had decided it was all right to allow it.

Before their arrival, Eilan was given a portable lap desk made of rich red Orlesian cherry wood.

“…I don’t know if I can accept this,” he said, sneezing before glancing over at Blackwall.

The Warden frowned, inspecting the desk. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing just… it’s very elegant and I… Wouldn’t you rather keep it?" Or give it to Josephine, who could get more use out of it?

Blackwall shook his head, looking at Eilan. “This was just a way to pass the time, Inquisitor. You shouldn’t make such a fuss.”

It was too well made to have been a random side project, but there was no sense making Blackwall feel like the gift was a flawed one. “I have to make some sort of fuss, surely. I really like it.”

Blackwall laughed gruffly. “That’s different. And allowed.”

“Oh, good.”

Eilan was still in a place between exhausted and restless, but he was sort of glad to see Josephine and Leliana in addition to Cullen. The Inquisition could manage to rest on their laurels for several days in a row, but Eilan was pleased to hear that the work wasn’t piling up but being sorted out. Hawke had just arrived at Skyhold and the report she’d sent by crow indicated all was well. Several operations were brought to his attention, and he set Leliana and Cullen off to handle them while he reviewed invitations with Josephine.

“I am not particularly concerned,” she said when he insisted she sit further away. “And first I would like to congratulate you. Halamshiral was by no means a simple feat, and you made some very difficult decisions.”

“I couldn’t see a way to make things work without the three of them even if I’m not sure I favor Celene.”

“There is much she will need to do to prove herself,” Josephine agreed. “While her reticence was understandable, I wish you had been allowed more of an audience with her. Before we leave Orlais, it would be wise to meet with them again.”

Eilan sighed. “Very well.”

“So there are thirteen invitations. Five we may safely ignore or at least offer other a polite, cursory reply to. The rest we cannot.”

“I’m sudden feeling much, much worse.”

Josephine chuckled. “Let me finish, Inquisitor. We cannot ignore them, but that does not mean we will need to send you to every single one. In fact, only three will require your presence.”

“Oh,” Eilan said, a bit relieved. “Well, we can’t send Cullen.”

Josephine smiled knowingly. “No, we cannot. Our Commander will end up alienating all of the nobles if he is sent with someone else or engaged to everyone’s daughter if left to his own devices. That is a mess and a headache that you and I do not need.”

“What’s to be done?”

“That is what we must discuss. Several members of the Inquisition have offered.”

“Who?”

“It would be far easier to say who is not interested in attending these events. That would be Bull, Cole, Blackwall, and Solas.”

“Well, we’re not sending Sera,” Eilan said, rubbing his temples as he thought the matter over. He sneezed one or two times before coming to a decision. “I think it would be good to send Vivienne, Varric, and Dorian. Together, of course, and provided you went with.”

“I would have to, although I imagine they will represent us well enough.”

“Is there anyone else you would suggest?”

“I must admit I am slightly conflicted after the Winter Palace but… Leliana?”

Eilan frowned thoughtfully, wondering if that was a good idea. She’d seemed a bit grim at Halamshiral, not to mention rather bloodthirsty. “Maybe one or two of these parties? If she’s at all interested. However, I imagine she has enough to do.”

“As you wish, Inquisitor.” Josephine jotted down a few notes. “Their attire will need to be commissioned. It will not do for them to wear the same uniforms to each gathering. Some take place several months from now, and so travel arrangements will need to be coordinated. Easily done.”

“Thank you, Josephine.”

She looked up, smiling. “Of course.”

*

Eilan spent the afternoon writing responses to the invitations he was rejecting. Only he kept nodding off in the middle of a sentence so really he got nothing accomplished. Eventually he shoved everything in the drawer of his desk and took a nap.

There was a knock at his door an hour or so later. “Come in,” he said, coughing a bit and sitting up.

Krem entered, setting down a tray with a carafe of hot water and a large bowl of stew. “Hello. Chief said I ought to check on you from time to time. He’s still off with the others, but I imagine they’ll be back soon.”

“No, I’m all right. Wait though. I… Um.” Eilan held up the nug. “Thank you. “

“…really? I… that is, of course, your worship. Here,” Krem handed Eilan the bowl of stew. “Eat up then.”

Eilan ate the stew slowly at first and then a bit quicker, suddenly finding that he had a bit of an appetite. Krem took the bowl from him when he was done. “About the nugs though… If Cullen gives you a hard time about them, you should know that he actually enjoys craft projects as much as anyone else does”

Krem blinked, laughing and relaxing his stance a little. “Oh, I know. I saw the…” he held his hands up indicating invisible horns and tassels.

“You did?”

“I certainly did. He forgot he was wearing them this morning when we were training.”

“Oh no.”

“It was just me, Rocky, and Grim so there’s no cause for alarm. Rocky barely notices anything going on that far up from the ground unless there’s an explosion involved, and Grim doesn’t talk much. He smiled, but that was about it. All of this means I have no choice but to give the Chief a hard time, I wouldn’t make fun of your Commander for knitting. It’s relaxing, you know? Doing something with your hands that isn’t just bashing someone else until they’re all bruised and bloody. Plus it’s something enjoyable and the end result doesn’t have to be useful.”

Eilan nodded. “Taking a break from being useful is nice.”

Krem shook his head. “Like you’d know,” he teased. “You’re non-stop, your worship. Like a whirlwind. You have to learn to carve out more time for something besides hard work or else you’re going to get dizzy. So. You need help with the tea then?”

“I’d say no, but I don’t want to deal with Bull later so… sure.”

“Shall I see what we have then?” Krem asked, picking up the box of herbs. He frowned at the labels muttering something to the effect of ‘bloody pointless’ under his breath. “I don’t know, Inquisitor. This seems… Well, you need more spice, don’t you? Not sure if there’s any cardamom to be had here in Orlais, but I bet the kitchen has ginger, cinnamon, and cloves.”

“That sounds good.”

“Should be better than this. The oldest remedies are the best ones,” Krem said in a firm tone that didn’t allow for an argument. “I can put some royal elfroot in though if you like. Maybe basil and peppermint to give it a little kick.”

Eilan sighed happily. “I should make you look after me every time I’m sick.”

Krem looked up from the herbs, clearing his throat as he blushed. “Oh, now don’t say that. Chief’s done good, and I don’t want to deal with him either.”

Eilan chuckled. “Well, of course he’s done well. And I can’t blame you. He can be a bit tough on you.”

“It’s helpful though. Works too. He’s fast for such a big guy, and sometimes I’m a bit slow,” Krem admitted with a sheepish grin. “Like right now. Your water’s going to get cold if I don’t get a move on.”

The Tevinter warrior left, returning shortly thereafter with the ingredients he’d mentioned. As the tea started to steep, he eyed Eilan thoughtfully. “You must be bored, yeah? I could tell you more stories about the Chargers.”

“I’d like that. Just maybe none of the ones where the foolish noble trying to pay you gets eaten.”

“But what if she deserved it?”

“Is it horrific?”

“Not at all.” Krem shook his head. “As if I’d tell you something terrifying when you’re sick. I’ll tell you about something that happened during that stupid blight then. Iron Bull versus an Ogre should be of interest to you. And you’ll like that one. The Chief was very brave.”

Eilan frowned. “Did he get hurt?”

Krem grinned. “Nah, not a scratch on him. But if you want to hold onto that,” he added, indicating the nug with a nod of his head, “Well, I won’t tell anyone.”

Eilan laughed, coloring slightly. “I’ll be fine.”

“All right then.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to get this chapter posted earlier, but my beta was without internet until this evening. I'm glad Tigercule was able to look it over so quickly! And I hope no one objects to some hurt/comfort sickness fluff for a change of pace. :)
> 
> Also if anyone's curious, the tea ingredients that Krem rattles off can be found in Cold Season from Yogi Tea. It's great when you're sick? But really not something I'd rec if and when you're feeling fine.


	39. Chapter 39

*

It took several more days before Eilan felt more like himself, and then several more after that before he felt like taking the trip to Val Royeaux.

While the others went shopping, he walked along the water with Cole who told him about all of the little fishes underneath the water’s still surface. They were grey and gleaming, swimming about beneath the boats lining the docks.

“The sun is warm and so is the company,” Cole said after awhile.

“It is although… It occurs to me that we might have gotten you a new hat instead.”

Cole shrugged. “This was better.”

When they moved back towards the market square and shop fronts, Cole paused and frowned. “Dorian will need your help.”

“He seemed to prefer I stayed away and allow him to shop in peace.”

“You know him well enough to know that he often means the opposite of what he says.”

Eilan sighed. “I have noticed that.”

“Look for a tent with red curtains. And a toad.”

“…a toad?”

Cole smiled slyly. “He is a merchant, but Dorian thinks he is a toad.”

“Right.” Eilan headed off in the direction Cole indicated. He startled, blinking a bit when Bull caught up with him. “Hello.”

“Hey.”

“How was shopping?”

Bull looked sheepish. “Uh. Might have taken out a stand or two accidentally. With my horns.”

Eilan chuckled. “Oh dear. Did you…”

“Blame it on Cullen and run away? Yup.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Nah, I gave the lady some money and left. Cullen’s still buying some yarn over… back there somewhere. Where are you off to?”

“Checking up on Dorian.”

Bull grinned. “He got really pissy with me when I tried to see what he was up to so… I’ll tag along.”

“I can handle Dorian even if he’s in a mood.”

Bull shrugged. “Still.”

“…I’m over the cold, you know. I’d be fine without you hovering.”

Bull snorted, leaning down to kiss Eilan’s cheek. Several nobles who had been tittering and gossiping in the corner of the plaza gasped. They scattered, scurrying away in over exaggerated terror as if a Qunari smirking in their direction was a sign of the end times. One of them, the sole gentleman in the group, splashed noisily through a small fountain as he scrambled to catch up to the others.

“I will never understand Orlesians,” Eilan murmured.

“Even for them, that was excessive but…Kadan, shadowing you is what I do. It’s basically my default activity. ‘Sides, I don’t have a reason for everything I do. I’m allowed to follow you around just because. It’s one of the many perks of you being mine.”

“Oh. Um. Fair enough.”

In a quiet corner of the market place, in a stand with red drapes, Dorian was arguing with a masked man. He was wearing a dark jacket with massive everite pauldrons in addition to bright red epaulettes.

The man clasped his hands together as he considered Eilan. He ignored Bull entirely, smiling in delight and waving Eilan over. “Inquisitor! Good, good, this is exactly what I was hoping for.”

Dorian let out a disgusted noise that would have put even Cassandra’s best grunt to shame. “I said I wanted to do this by myself. Alone,” he said in a tone that bordered on loathing.

Eilan frowned. “I was… I didn’t…”

“I don’t want to be indebted to anyone. Least of all to you.”

“Check your tone,” Bull gruffly suggested. “Now. What the fuck are we even talking about?”

“Do allow me to explain,” the merchant cheerfully exclaimed. “I am Ponchard, and I have something that belongs to Monsieur Pavus. Something he had hoped to purchase from me without alerting you to the transactions. At first I was amenable to that arrangement… Then learned of his association with you.”

“I’m not sure I follow you,” Eilan said. Or, at least, he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

“Your friend,” Ponchard said, putting an odd emphasis on the word, “wishes the return of his family’s amulet.”

“He is not my…” Dorian trailed off, scowling as Bull grunted at him. “All right, he is my friend, but he is just my friend.”

Ponchard smirked. “At any rate,” he said, continuing to focus on Eilan. “I wish to be paid in more than coin, Inquisitor. I desire influence, influence you yourself possess, but which the young man does not. Provided, of course, you desire the amulet.”

“Well, not personally, but if it belongs to Dorian…” Eilan sighed. “You really won’t let him simply buy it back?”

“I am not a fence, monsieur. I only bought your friend’s amulet because of what it is. I do business in the Imperium. Having a birthright, even one not your own, is most useful in… select situations.”

“He’s got the right of it there,” Dorian said, crossing his arms.

“Uh huh. So what if we just don’t care? What stops us from just taking the necklace?” Bull asked.

“Uh… One, that I presume His Worship is not a thief. Two, the amulet is not here for you to take.”

Bull muttered something to himself. He stretched his arms out, nearly knocking the mask from the merchant’s head as he cracked his knuckles. Loudly. “Okay. Let’s try something else. Do you know who this guy is besides the whole the Inquisitor thing?”

“He is… a Trevelyan. Of a noble blood, a man of honor.”

“Yeah, he is. You want to climb the social ladder? Well, you can’t if he sets every rung on fire and reduces your reputation to ashes. He is a man who, if you wrong him, can crush,” Bull said, making a fist with one large hand, “your every ambition. Once he’s done that? Once you matter about as much to your peers as this dumbass Vint does to his without his birthright… Then I’ll stop by your booth again. We’ll have a nice, private chat.”

Bull leaned in, smirking at Ponchard. “Just little you and me,” he said, pointing between them. “And I’ll tell you all about what happens to people who try to fuck with the Inquisitor on my watch.”

Ponchard hesitated then bowed shakily. “Forgive me, Your Worship,” he said, looking to Eilan. His tone was a bit beseeching and bewildered. He had expected many things, of course, but not a fairly eloquent Qunari who had just threatened him. “If it is your desire, I will have the amulet delivered to Skyhold immediately. Immediately,” he repeated, eyeing Bull worriedly. “Please just think of me kindly. I meant no offense.”

“I understand,” Eilan said patiently and with a hint of sympathy. “I trust that you will excuse my bodyguard. He takes his job very seriously. I am loathe to admit as much, monsieur, but I can’t always control his actions, particularly if he considers any aspect of my title or welfare to be threatened. That said, I can try to do right by you if you sincerely plan on doing right by me and the members of the Inquisition.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that along with the amulet, you may send my Ambassador any of the requests you had considered blackmailing out of me. If the demands are reasonable, she will tend to them. Either way, I will pay you, of course. Bull?”

The Qunari threw a bag of coins at Ponchard. “Enjoy.”

The man blinked when the purse hit his shoulder. He bent over and scooped the bag up. He didn’t bother counting its contents; he just bowed again and scrambled out of their sight.

Dorian had been surprisingly silent during the exchange. Now that it was over, he barked out a laugh and shook his head. “I’d feel badly for the fellow if he wasn’t—”

“A toad?” Eilan asked. “Cole told me already,” he added when Dorian looked confused.

“Yeah, well, he’s also a prick we just overpaid,” Bull groused.

“Splendid performances all around though,” Dorian said with a smile. “Really, it makes one feel a trifle—”

“Fuck no. Spare me your feelings of gratitude and camaraderie,” Bull said. “I just did it to see if I could get that asshole to pass out. And obviously I was looking out for what’s mine. Eilan might have given that guy a thousand different bullshit favors just to get your amulet back.”

“I wouldn’t have…” Eilan trailed off, coloring slightly as both his lover and his friend stared at him. “That is,” he said, clearing his throat, “I might have stopped after the eighth favor and reassessed the situation?”

Dorian grinned. “It’s a good thing you have Bull.”

“It really is.”

*

The trip back to Skyhold was another long one, but the carriage ride gave Eilan ample time to continue relaxing and to catch up on paperwork. Around and over him, Cullen and Bull played some sort of game of chess without pieces or a game board.

Upon arriving back at what he was beginning to constantly think of as home, he learned that Morrigan had arrived. She was in the garden near the Chantry, and wanted to speak with him when time permitted. Hawke was back on the battlements although she’d been given a room. He’d been tempted to go up to her, but he hesitated when the elf next to her gave him a particularly flinty look.

Briefly frozen into indecision, Eilan resolved to deal with new business the next day. He left, returning to the grounds of the keep. There, he began locating his companions.

Cassandra was reading Varric’s latest masterpiece so Eilan left her alone. Bull was catching up with the Chargers, and invited Eilan to drink with them later. Sera was still a bit moody from the trip to Orlais but she was willing to let bygones be bygones if Inquisition soldiers were sent to march in Verchiel. Vivienne was in a jovial mood, but rather preoccupied with arranging the clothes she’d bought. Blackwall was a bit gloomy but he’d shown off some of his current carving projects before suggesting it was best if he was left alone until his mood sorted itself out. Solas was painting in his room.

Dorian’s amulet had arrived from Orlais at virtually the same time as he had returned to Skyhold. It wasn’t as much as Eilan had thought – a nice gold chain with a small pendant of twining snakes—but he understood that it represented something of great value to Dorian. And he was pleased that his friend had his birthright back.

“I can’t think of a good way to thank you,” Dorian said with a warm smile that slowly turned into a crafty smirk. “At least,” he drawled, “not one that two other people don’t already provide you with. Or ought to.”

“I’m just sorry you were ever put in a position where you had no choice but to sell something precious to you.”

“Thus far, it has proved to be the right course of action and well worth the aggravation that accompanied the initial loss.”

“Oh?”

“Oh yes. I’ve seen a rather remarkable return on that poor investment. Why, without that coin, I would never have arrived in Ferelden and I might never have met you. And then what would you have done?”

Eilan smiled. “Nothing worth noting without the corrupting influence of Tevinter’s own Dorian Pavus to guide me.”

“Well, we can’t have you thanking me for merely being here,” Dorian said, setting a hand on Eilan’s shoulder. “It simply wouldn’t do. So allow me to say… Thank you for returning this to me. For being such a steadfast and reliable friend at all times, and for having such an effective bodyguard.”

Eilan laughed. “Well, that was more his doing than mine.”

“You selected him.”

Eilan smiled. “It wasn’t a very long hiring process, and the only recommendations he gave me were his own.”

“And yet?” Dorian prompted.

“And yet, of course, I'm happy that I hired him." 

"No, no. I was referring to my thanking you. Because I did thank you just now. And when someone thanks you, you..."

"Oh. Right. You’re welcome,” Eilan said, feeling a little sheepish. “I was glad to help by… basically letting Bull help you.”

Dorian smiled slightly. “Like so many things, none of that would have been possible without you.”

Eilan considered this before pulling Dorian into a hug. “I don’t… I think it’s more that you’re—”

“Don’t you dare suggest say I’m right,” Dorian insisted. “You do that far too often.” He slowly returned the hug, brushing a hand through Eilan’s hair. “However, you… You can be grateful for me, if you wish. More people ought to be.”

It took some time to find Varric. He wasn’t in the main hall, he wasn’t anywhere near Cassandra or Cole, he wasn’t loitering outside Eilan’s quarters, and he wasn’t in the tavern. Eventually Eilan found him right where he himself had started his afternoon: Hawke’s battlements. 

Varric and Hawke seemed to be discussing something. The elf was listening with his arms crossed, still wearing a significant scowl. Eilan felt slightly leery, but he decided he wasn’t going to be kept out of sections of his own keep and headed up the stairs.

“Trevelyan!” Hawke said with a grin.

“Hey, Inquisitor,” Varric muttered, lips twisting up into something like a smile.

“Hello,” Eilan managed.

Hawke raised an eyebrow then rolled her eyes. “Oh, Fenris, we’ve discussed this.”

“We have. Since then we have discussed many things that have not improved my mood.” The elf sighed. He softened his expression, but his eyebrows still narrowed as he considered Eilan. “I am Fenris. I know who you are.”

“I… That is, Varric has mentioned you.”

“And yet here you are meeting me,” Fenris dryly observed, “I suppose the Inquisitor has to be a bit brave.”

Eilan managed a small smile.

“Nice effort," Varric said, looking at Fenris and then Eilan, "but that’s probably all he can manage and all you can handle so let’s go. “We haven’t talked much. Want to get a pint?”

“If a pint can be a glass of wine then yes,” Eilan replied.

“At least you know you’re a lightweight. Sure. You two behave. A bit.”

“We’ll try,” Hawke said cheerfully. “Let me know if you see my brother about. He’s avoiding me, and he's gotten rather good at it.”

“Will do.”

“Hawke’s brother is here?” Eilan asked as he followed Varric down the stairs away from the battlements and towards the tavern.

“Yeah, but that's mostly because Hawke dragged him here and other Grey Wardens are working for the Inquisition. I can introduce you to him. Maybe some of the others.”

“Please do. I’d like to meet him.”

Varric nodded even as he grimaced. “One thing… You probably don’t want Fenris to meet Dorian.”

“All right. Is… it likely they can avoid one another?”

“Yeah, I doubt Fenris will be headed to the library anytime soon, and that’s usually where Dorian is. But I’ll explain the situation and we’ll have to hope for the best.”

Eilan sighed. “I can’t leave it at that, and you know it.”

“Then I’d suggest coming up with things for Hawke and Fenris to do elsewhere. Shouldn’t be too hard.”

“I’ll see what Cullen needs done. Or Leliana. Josephine probably doesn’t need their help even if we obviously do.”

Varric smirked. “Tactfully put.”

“Well, we all have to play to our strengths.”

They didn’t say much more as they headed into the tavern. Eilan went up and got their drinks for Cabot – a pale ale for Varric and a red table wine for himself. He smiled at Bull as he passed him, and promised he’d join him soon.

Varric had moved up to the second floor of Herald’s Rest. He was rapping one set of knuckles idly against the table.

“So," Eilan said, setting down their drinks, "we haven’t talked much as you yourself pointed out." He sat down, regarding Varric curiously. "I’ve noticed you’ve… been a little irritable.”

Varric sighed. “I don’t know that you’d get where I’m coming from. You make difficult decisions, but you make the right ones. That’s not me. I try to avoid decisions and the responsibilities that come with them.”

“But you’ve made some.”

“Yeah, I have,” he said taking a swig of his beer. “Most I’ve shrugged off, but it gets harder as you get older. And as the mistakes pile up.”

“We’re done with the red lyrium samples or smashing or... whatever. We can meet up with your… that is, with Bianca soon.”

“It's not that,” Varric insisted, “although that would be pretty great. Getting that about over with would be something at least.”

“You decide who we’re taking or if you’d prefer Hawke—”

“I don’t prefer exactly. I don’t compare. There’s a time when I would have, I’ll admit it, but I’m not about to compare you to her. Or her to you. There’s not much about you that’s the same, and I like that. I really do. I wouldn’t mind her tagging along or Fenris. Maybe throw Bull and Blackwall into the mix as back-up in case there’s darkspawn.”

“Deal,” Eilan said with a small smile. “But what’s upset you?”

Varric rolled his eyes. “Please. You know who that was at the party.”

“Yes.”

“Good then we don’t need to use names. Anyway, that’s on me. That whole arrangement. I left him there.”

“It didn’t seem very arranged.”

Varric sighed heavily. “That’s the worst part. They’re…happy.”

Eilan fought against the urge to chuckle, a desire that faded rapidly. He found himself drinking his wine, considering instead all that Varric wasn’t saying and what little he’d seen of his friend with Bianca. Maevaris and Anders were happy and together despite all of the reasons why they ought not to have been. Varric… Varric wasn’t.

“I’m sorry,” he said gently after the silence had stretched on for more time than he’d meant for it to.

“I know, and I appreciate it,” Varric said with a shrug. “From you or Hawke, it works. I’ll take it. With most people, that sort of shit irritates me. Either way, it’s nothing you’ve done, Eilan. You can be as sorry as you want, but you’re not part of the problem.”

“Do you hate him?”

“No. Yes. Maybe. It depends on the time of day.”

“The Prince of Starkhaven keeps asking for help locating him.”

“And?”

“And I’m not going to help," Eilan said. "That’s not the sort of person I want to be.”

“I’m sure my cousin will appreciate it.” Varric stared down into his drink. “I do too considering Sebastian would have to go through her to get to him and… I don’t want that. I don’t want anything to happen to her that isn’t good, you know? And the thing that kills me is it was so inevitable, he even warned me about it.”

“It’s odd that you write so many romances,” Eilan mused. “Or maybe it isn’t.”

“It’s what sells, and… You tell anyone else this, and I’ll deny it,” Varric said looking up, “but I find them comforting. So do my readers. We all want to find something like that, the stuff heroes get. The stuff Hawke gets when Fenris isn’t being a jackass. The stuff you get out of Bull and Cullen because it must be something good. The way you look at them… That doesn’t happen to most of us.”

“But you wish it hadn’t happened to him.”

“I guess not?" Varric said with a sigh. "It’s complicated. When I left him there, he wanted… Well, he didn’t want to be much of anything. She wasn’t going to put up with that. So whatever he is now, despite all that he has been, I’m not sure it’s up to me to decide if he’s earned it or not… She’d say it didn’t matter. Mae’s never felt that you get what you deserve. She’s the sort of person who knows what she wants and takes it. Doesn’t matter if it’s fair or not.”

“That sounds like a better approach than waiting for what you think you deserve to catch up with you.”

“It might be at that.”

“Will you still speak to her?”

Varric blinked. “Yeah, of course,” he said with a small laugh. “Don’t get me wrong, I hate what’s going on there because she’s a friend and she’s my family, but… it’s her life. I get that. I learned a long time ago that you don’t ever have to understand someone to love them. Hell, most of the time you don’t even have to like them.”

Eilan patted Varric’s hand and smiled. “We could play Wicked Grace.”

“Have to admit… That would cheer me up. You get so bashful when you’re trying to bluff.”

Eilan laughed. “I’ve gotten better.”

“Yeah, well… I don’t want to hurt your feelings… But you couldn’t have gotten any worse.”

*

Eilan didn’t have to try at all to be just as terrible as ever at Wicked Grace. Eventually, Varric took all the cards back and said, “Let’s try something easier.”

They switched to some sort of children’s card game called Ancient Dowager. After a couple of rounds, Cole approached their table while Sera came out of her room to join them. They switched to Go Mabari as Blackwall sat down next to Eilan on his bench.

Solas came in, but he didn’t play. He leaned against a wooden support beam, watching them with a small smirk.

Surprisingly, Bull was the one to bring the card games to a screeching halt. “Okay, just how many of these games are you playing before you actually join me?” he shouted up at them.

“Just this last one?” Eilan answered.

“Good.”

“Don’t know if I’ve heard him get impatient before,” Blackwall said. “Unless there was a dragon soaring overhead and the rest of us were actively trying to will out of existence.”

Eilan smiled. “Well, it has been at least an hour.”

“Or two,” Varric said with a smirk. “At least Curly wasn’t here to force me to raise the stakes.”

“If he comes here—”

Varric chuckled. “No harm will come to him, Inquisitor. We won’t bet the way Josephine would.”

“He’d best keep his pants on,” Sera put in. “More clothes the better on that one, I’d say.”

“I do too,” Cole added much to Sera’s amusement.

After losing yet another round, Eilan sighed and headed downstairs. Bull was still drinking, but he was mostly on his own. Dalish and Skinner who were in a corner, whispering about something. Grim was working on some sort of whittling project while Krem talked at him.

“Running out of things to drink waiting for you,” Bull groused.

Eilan sat down on a stool next to him and kissed Bull’s cheek. He yawned, resting his head against his arm which was covering the countertop in front of him. “Well, if it was toasting a dragon, I’d have been here the whole time.”

“True. Are we doing that again soon?”

Eilan glanced up. “Kissing or dragons?”

“Kissing will happen,” Bull said with a smirk. “Don’t have to ask for those. I meant dragons.”

“I don’t see why not. Judicael’s Crossing is restored, and it’s probably the best way to get Cullen out of the keep.”

“Dunno if that's the only way," Bull pointed out. "I heard there’s this old Vint shrine he wants to take you to, and I haven’t gotten an invite.”

Eilan laughed. “It’s a mission, Bull, not some sort of awkward date.”

“Good because I’m betting that place is cursed.”

“It might be at that considering its current occupants.”

Bull raised an eyebrow.

“Red templars. Samson is using the place as some sort of stronghold.”

“Did my invitation got lost or are you hoping I’ll beg for one?”

Eilan sat up, smiling fondly. “Bull, you would like to come with me to Northern Orlais to kill red templars? I would be delighted to have your company and your invaluable services.”

“Damn straight.” Bull smiled, setting a large hand in Eilan’s hair. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome although… You do know that at this point, I’d drag you with me even if you didn’t want to go. I'd miss you if I didn't, and I'd have to bring you with. I’m hopelessly unlucky without you, remember?”

“Nah.”

Eilan chuckled as Bull kissed his cheek. “Nah?”

“The more I think about it, the more it seems like it must be the other way around. You’re all the luck I have, and, as it turns out, you’re all the luck I need.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a filler chapter, but only in that it sort of transitions from Orlais to Skyhold. I figured everyone could still use a bit of downtime.
> 
> Thank you, Tigercule for the beta and Bakaknight for looking this chapter over. I'm hoping the next chapter will be up by the weekend or Monday at the latest.


	40. Chapter 40

*

The next day began with Mother Giselle pointing out the need for a new Divine, which lead to discussing the Inquisition’s next move against Corypheus. The bulk of his forces, it seemed, were in the Arbor Wilds, a rather remote location.

Before launching a full-scale assault, more information on what he was seeking and a visit to the Shrine of Dumat was required. Crippling Samson would in turn cause new problems for Corypheus’ armies.

“Still, the Arbor Wilds,” Cullen said with a frown. “I don’t understand why they would choose a forest.”

“Whatever they are looking for must be important,” Leliana agreed. “Perhaps elven artifacts to use against us?”

Eilan frowned himself, thinking of the orb Solas had mentioned to him. And one he had not mentioned to most of the men and women who worked for him. If Corypheus was able to find another one—

“Perhaps I can explain,” Morrigan said. Before that point and as a new addition to the war council, she had only been listening to what the others had to say. But she led Eilan to a small room near the gardens and the Chantry Cullen so often used.

“What is that?” Eilan asked, a bit mystified by the large shimmering thing in the back of the room. Its surface was lit with purples and reds, and it was hard to tell if it was a mirror, a window, or a door. And if it was door, it was a little worrisome to think of what might have been able to fit through it.

“This is an eluvian. An elven artifact, from a time before their empire was lost to human greed. I restored this one at great cost, but another lies within the Arbor Wilds. That is what Corypheus seeks.”

“It’s… certainly mesmerizing,” Eilan said, frowning as the surface turned dark blue for a moment.

“I found legends of an elven temples within the Arbor Wilds, untouched. It proved too dangerous to approach, and thus I turned elsewhere to find my prize.”

“So he’s trying for the one that’s harder to come by.”

“Yes. He could succeed where I failed. The eluvian would be his.”

“So is it a door? A creepy mirror? What does it do?” Eilan asked somewhat impatiently. He’d enjoyed talking to Morrigan and also her son. He imagined he would enjoy other, future conversations, but he found it difficult to be so close to something so magical and to be so absolutely uncertain as to what it did.

Morrigan began some sort of spell, and the surface of the eluvian erupted with harsh blue light. Then it stabilized, much like the rifts did when Eilan used the anchor. He was grateful that he’d left the others behind. He wasn’t sure how they would have felt about an artifact like this, but he hoped Solas could take a look at it later.

“A more appropriate question would be ‘where does it lead?’” Morrigan asked, then she moved through the blue light, her shape glowing white and then disappearing altogether.

Eilan hesitated, feeling his fingers grow cold as he considered following her. He wasn’t sure he cared much to do somewhere Bull and Cullen could not go. It seemed… Well, dangerous, but he was curious.

Stepping through was like entering another mist-shrouded world. The trees were bare and curved like halla horns. There were tall temples and… Something else. And with the fog being as thick as it was, he wasn’t sure if he was seeing small buildings or headstones up ahead.

As they moved closer, Eilan realized they were eluvians. Rows upon rows of eluvians. But while the portal they had used was blue, the rest were dark. The few with any magic left to them, sizzled dark green as the air around them was distorted.

“If this place once had a name,” Morrigan said, “it has long been lost.”

Eilan considered her and then the portal behind them. “You… Did you send others to help me?”

“It is possible,” she said, striding forward. “I call it the crossroads, a place where all eluvians join…wherever they might be. The ancient elves left no roads, only ruins hidden in far-flung corners. This is how they traveled between them.”

“I wish Solas was here,” Eilan said quietly. “You must show this to him because this place is extraordinary and it belongs to his people. He might know something about it.”

“If it be your will,” Morrigan said. “It is hard to know how this place came to exist. Mayhaps it was formed from the fabric of time and space. Who can say? As you can see, most of the mirrors are dark: broken, corrupted, or unusable. As for the rest…a few can be opened from this side. But only a few.”

“This place feels… artificial,” Eilan said with a frown. “It’s as if someone made a pocket within the fade, with its own rules of reality. If the ancient elves could do this…”

“It seems remarkable that the Magisters of Tevinter could ever challenge them, yes.”

“How did you find out about this place?”

“My travels have led me to many strange destinations, Inquisitor. Once, they led me here. It offered sanctuary.”

“Sanctuary?” Perhaps that was when she was still with child.

“Not all the mirrors lead back to our world. The ancients were nothing if not… resourceful. They took me to places between, like this one. I can describe it no better. For a time, I was safe from those who hunted me. But only for a time. One cannot remain in between forever.”

Just as one couldn’t sleep forever. Eilan nodded, wishing yet again that Solas was there. Solas understood the Fade better than most so it only made sense he would be able to glean a bit more from this place, from the odd kingdom of his ancestors, than even Morrigan had.

“What did you mean by ‘A few can be opened from this side?’”

“Some of the eluvians have been left unlocked, like doors accidentally left ajar. All others are closed, they can be opened only from beyond.”

“Opened how?”

“With a key. The key can be many things. Each eluvian is different. I have knowledge as well as power. Often that is enough.”

“Corypheus wants to come… here?”

“This…is not the Fade, but it is very close. Someone with enough power could tear down the ancient barriers…”

“And enter the Fade in the flesh. Like Corypheus wanted to do with this,” Eilan said, holding up his hand.

“He learned of the eluvian in the Arbor Wilds, as I did. He marshals the last of his forces to reach it.”

“Only now one of these is in Skyhold and considering Corypheus is trying to take possession of other one. Was being this eluvian to use… wise?”

“He cannot reach us yet. He has no means of doing so before we reach him,” Morrigan pointed out. “And if he succeeds, it will not matter how close the eluvian is to you or not. You have made Corypheus desperate, Inquisitor. We must work together to stop him, and soon.”

*

“So this magic mirror is just down the hall? What the fuck?” Bull asked later on when they were sitting in Eilan’s quarters. Bull was making use of the couch while Cullen and Eilan were sitting on the end of their bed.

Eilan shrugged uncertainly. “I guess it’s better we have it than anyone else?”

“More and more magic that we don’t understand and have no business touching,” Cullen said, rubbing his temples. “And more Anders. Maker’s Breath, Eilan.”

“Doesn’t this situation sort of demand you use Maker’s Balls instead?” Bull asked.

“I am fairly certain no situation requires mention of the Maker’s Balls, and I really wish you wouldn’t try to distract me with your terrible sense of humor. Not now.”

“Sorry,” Bull said, sounding in no way sincere.

“I meant to tell you,” Eilan said worriedly.

“It’s probably best that you waited, and I’m going to…” Cullen rubbed his temples. “As per usual, I am going to choose to dwell on his saving your life and not his… Well, not anything else about him. And really the less said about him the better.”

“You know,” Bull said, “before I joined you crazy people down South, I don’t think I’d have known who he was. And I wouldn’t have cared.”

Cullen glared mildly at Bull. It was a look that suggested that Cullen knew full well that Bull hardly cared at that particular moment either.

“Gotta admire his nerve though,” Bull said, impervious as ever to the bad temper of those around him. “Waltzing into a party in Orlais. And say what you want about him… His wife’s hot.”

Cullen sighed heavily. He smiled when Eilan took pity on him and kissed his cheek. “You really think he used the eluvian?”

Eilan “I’m not entirely sure, but it’s possible. After all, Surana and Morrigan are old friends.”

“Yes, well, regardless of her connections and considering her references… Should we really be trusting this woman? Or any of these people?” Cullen asked.

“I’d like to have Solas look into the matter,” Eilan said. “I trust Morrigan so far, but I trust Solas far more. But I can’t hold it against her, not really. She’s working to serve her own interests as our nearly all of our allies are at this point.”

“Nice of her to be upfront about it, sure,” Bull agreed. “But it doesn’t cost her anything to be so transparent. I mean, kadan, it doesn’t change the fact that you can’t really expect much from her if it doesn’t help her out directly. That’s… not exactly great news.”

Cullen scowled. “With allies like these, we hardly need Corypheus.”

“But we’ve got him so might as well hunt his ass down.”

“Do you think he knew this straight away?” Eilan asked. “What the world he awakened to would be like and how he could use so it for his own ends? Or is it worse than that, and this Age of ours is very similar to the Age he is from? Are the people no better than they were back then? Are we in the same dark place now as we were when he lived?”

“History repeating itself,” Bull said. “Scary thought. I honestly don’t know.”

“And I wouldn’t care to speculate,” Cullen murmured. “Thinking isn’t really what we need right now. It’s action.”

“Works for me,” Bull said.

Cullen smiled thinly. “And there’s much to do, as always. Tomorrow we’re off to the temple, then we’ll work on the other. One only hopes that both will shed more light on the matter.”

Eilan nodded, feeling overwhelmed by how much still lay ahead of them. By how hopeless things occasionally felt. How it was never over and done with. Despite all of his successes, all it would take was one colossal failure and everything they’d done wouldn’t even matter.

“Nothing’s gonna sort itself out quickly,” Bull said, reaching out and pull Eilan to him. Eilan reluctantly allowed himself to be tugged to the mattress. “But it’ll happen, kadan. It will.”

He sat down between Cullen and Bull, letting Cullen put a blanket around him as he clutched Bull’s thick arm to his chest.

“I just… I have to stop him, and I don’t know how,” Eilan managed.

“You do though. I mean, okay, yeah… We don’t know exactly what we need to do to kill that son of a bitch, but stopping him? We’re doing that all the damn time. And whatever you’re doing is working. He’s afraid of you,” Bull said, kissing Eilan’s hair.

“And only you so far as anyone can tell,” Cullen said, putting an arm around Eilan’s waist. “You mustn’t lose sight of that, sweetheart, and when you do… Ask one of us for a reminder.”

“I just wish… I wish this was over,” Eilan said. He curled up against Cullen, feeling stupid when Bull wiped at his eyes with several large fingers. “I really do. I’m tired of telling people what to do and finding out what they really want from me. I’m tired of being expected to pick the next Divine and avenge her predecessor. I can’t keep deciding who lives and dies and how. But I want to make Thedas better. I want it to be a proper place for elves and mages. And I want to save the world and… I can’t…”

“We’re getting there,” Bull said, tone calm and soothing. “Kadan, we’re getting there, all right? And once we’re there, you’re taking a month off.”

“A month?”

“Yeah. At least. You can pretend to have a cold that never goes away. We’ll go to Cullen’s boring cabin.”

“Cullen’s boring cabin,” Cullen repeated with a frown.

“Mine would be the fun one.”

“You don’t have a cabin.”

“Not yet. Maybe I’ll build one right next to yours.”

Eilan huffed quietly, smiling in spite of how obvious that this particular collaborate effort to cheer him up was. “We’ll go to Cullen’s, and it won’t be boring. It’ll be quiet though. And no one’s allowed to do any work at all.”

“But some of us should work right now,” Cullen said with a sigh. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but if I’m leaving with you for… Well, actually, I don’t know how long… I really ought to make sure everyone knows what they’re doing.”

“Not just yet,” Eilan insisted, curling up in Cullen’s lap. “Please. Not just yet.”

Cullen kissed his hair, wrapping his arms around him. “Oh, Eilan, I won’t be that far away. And I can come back, you know.”

“Better yet,” Bull suggested. “You go find him later, kadan. His roof’s all fixed, and you can put the bed to good use. In the mean time, I’d like to keep you.”

“Oh,” Eilan said, glancing up. “And you won’t mind?”

“Nah. The Chargers want to go drinking again before I send ‘em off on another operation without me.”

“Well, all right.”

All the same, it was difficult to let Cullen untangle himself from Eilan’s embrace.

“Come find me tonight, or I’ll carry you off,” Cullen suggested.

“I don’t know which I’d prefer more,” Eilan shyly admitted.

“Shall we see how long it takes me to get all the work done, my love?”

“All right.”

The door had only just closed behind Cullen when Eilan was scooped up into Bull’s arms and kissed roughly. Bull’s tongue parted Eilan’s lips, claiming several moans and other soft sounds before the kiss ended.

“You know,” Bull said with a smirk, “when I find myself in times of trouble… I love to have a lot of sex. With you.”

Eilan laughed. “I think that’s your solution to every problem.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Eilan said, kissing Bull’s nose. “You always love to have a lot of sex with me.  
You’re insatiable. Relentless. Wonderful.”

“Well, considering who I’m having all that sex with? None of that’s surprising. So give me more of that good thing we’ve got going.” Bull deposited Eilan gently on the bed then worked on getting Eilan’s trousers off.

“Hmm. What should I do?” Eilan asked as Bull licked his cheek.

“You just lay back, kadan. Kiss me. Grab my horns. Enjoy the ride.”

“How long have you wanted to say that last part?”

“A while. Couldn’t find the right time. Knew it would show up though.”

*

It wasn’t entirely surprising when Eilan had to go and track down Cullen several hours later.

He was sitting behind his desk, handing out assignments and inspecting a few final reports.

The soldiers, all of them familiar, were aware of what happened next. They finished up their business and left, not a one of them lingering behind. A mistake that they’d all made at one time or another.

Inquisition matters were important, no one would argue otherwise. Still, if the Inquisitor wanted their Commander, for whatever reason, the presence of any other was not only unnecessary but also likely to be met with an unfavorable reaction from Cullen.

Eilan watched them file out, smiling slightly as he leaned across the desk and kissed Cullen’s cheek.

“I lost track of time,” Cullen said. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“I ought to be. I might have carried you here but I can’t carry you up. I don’t trust that ladder.”

“That’s still here?” Eilan asked. “I requisitioned a staircase nearly a month ago. I found the quarry and everything.”

“More urgent need for the stone arose. Fortifications to the towers and the like.”

“Have more stone brought here and when it arrives, it is to be for your staircase. Nothing else.” Eilan frowned. “Actually, never mind you being involved. I’ll put Josephine in charge of it.”

“If you like, I wasn’t trying to… That is… We need Skyhold to remain in one piece particularly with that…thing here.”

“It will. I’m not going to let anything happen to my—our home, Cullen. Or, more importantly, our people. But that includes you. If you were to forget the ladder was there and fall and break your neck? I’d never forgive myself and how could I…”

Cullen rose from his desk and pulled Eilan to him, taking Eilan’s hands in his. He let his warmer fingers stroke Eilan’s. “It will be done. Talk to Josephine, and we’ll come back to stairs either under construction or entirely finished.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” Cullen said. He let go of Eilan’s hands, wrapping his arms around Eilan’s waist instead. “I’ve no desire to make your job anymore difficult than it already is.”

“And your job?”

“Eventful but doable,” Cullen promised. “I’m more than ready to leave it behind tomorrow, however. I must admit that our one adventure together was too brief for my liking, and ever since then… I’ve been craving another.”

“Emprise du Lion is on the way back.”

Cullen sighed. “I find I’m more excited about the dragons.”

“I am too.”

“Is Bull sleeping in your quarters tonight?”

“I doubt it. When he’s drinking with his men, he usually stays at the tavern. Why?”

“We’re less likely to be interrupted in your chambers,” Cullen pointed out, kissing Eilan’s cheek, “and in light of what you’ve said about the ladder… Well, I find I’m a little concerned about your using it,” he added in a low murmur, kissing Eilan’s neck.

“All right. Although I suppose it would look odd if you carried me all the way back…”

“Probably better to avoid too much save for hand-holding. Not with all those stairs.”

Eilan frowned, pushing Cullen back a little when the other man began kissing him again. “Are you…mocking me?”

Cullen smirked, leaning in and kissing Eilan. “Having a little fun at your expense.”

Eilan kissed back before frowning. “That’s absolutely wrong of you, you know.”

“It is, rather,” Cullen agreed with a smirk. “Maybe you ought to do something about it.”

Eilan chuckled. “Me? I think I’d throw out my back trying to carry you when you’re wearing so much armor. Maybe if you took it off first though.”

“Let’s go to your room then. Once that armor’s off,” Cullen said, letting a hand slid from Eilan’s waist to rest a bit lower. “I have a few suggestions. Things we ought to try.”

“Wicked things?”

“Well,” Cullen murmured, “you do tempt me something awful.”

Eilan smiled. “Do I?”

“Who else but you?” Cullen asked, looking fond. “But no. I wouldn’t say they were wicked things. Just… things… Well, let’s just say that I have a lot of time without you to think of what I’d like you to do to me or for me to do to you.”

“I see. All right. Let’s go to my room and discuss them. Or more than discuss them.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

*

The trek through Orlais and to the Shrine of Dumat required both a sea voyage and a long series of carriage rides.

They traveled as discretely as a large group could, but even so it wasn’t terribly surprising when the Tevinter temple seemed deserted.

Red templar banners hung from the temple walls, fires burned throughout the courtyard, and on the walls were fanged serpents, their paint seeming more of a faded pink than any sort of red in the sunlight.

“The heart of Samson’s command,” Cullen said.

“Is oddly silent,” Eilan observed. 

“It is,” Cullen admitted with a sigh. “Maker, tell me he hasn’t fled.”

“Looks,” Solas pointed out, “can be deceiving.”

“Yeah,” Bull said, “There’s someone or a group of someones here, no doubt about it. As for this Samson guy… A big-ass temple like this has a thousand places to hide.”

“All temples and shrines seem to,” Dorian agreed. “Secret passageways, hidden tunnels, sealed vaults, sealed entrances… You name it.”

Cassandra winced minutely, no doubt thinking of the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

“Secret tunnels, huh?” Bull asked Dorian with a smirk. “Humans have such cute names for—”

“Oh, do shut up.”

But Bull was right. There were still red templars to contend with as they moved forward.

A massive behemoth lumbered down the staircase to the left of the temple entrance, smashing its large clawed hand into the stone next to Eilan.

The freeing swing it used caught him and Bull off-guard. Bull just grunted, staggering back to his feet. He deflected the next attack as Eilan shakily rose. He brushed blood from his own lip, scrambling to pull out a health potion. 

Eilan didn’t protest when Bull picked him up and set him a distance away with Solas and Dorian. Although he did feel a bit foolish once Bull had returned to join Cassandra and Cullen into launching more direct attacks.

“Did you forget you didn’t have horns and a giant hulking figure of your own?” Dorian asked.

Eilan colored slightly, watching as the behemoth groaned and keeled over. “I think it’s just that sometimes… I like hitting things.”

Cullen and Cassandra immediately worked on hacking off a sample from the fallen monster. Solas moved to join them.

Dorian, like Eilan, preferred to keep as far away from red lyrium as was remotely possible given their current line of work. “Yes, with a stick. How very barbaric and ineffective of you.”

“Aw, he’s clingy is all,” Bull said, ruffling Eilan’s hair. “Doesn’t like me doing things without him. Including getting pummeled by monsters. How’s the lip?”

“Fine. How do you feel?”

“Feel like my brain got a bit scrambled, but that’s nothing new.”

“Does anyone care to venture a guess as to what all the little fires are about?” Dorian asked as they pressed on. “They don’t seem to serve any sort of purpose. Some of the ones scattered out here aren’t even burning anything.”

“Could be that it’s just to go with the whole deserted feel. Must have thought we’d keep sending scouts,” Bull said. “Not a bad idea if you don’t expect your enemies to take a closer look. Then again they did leave some pretty fucked-up minions here.”

“Or it might be that the fires have been burning for so long there is no telling what or how much has been lost,” Cullen said, sounding acutely frustrated. “Either way, Samson seems to have ordered his templars to sack his headquarters so we couldn’t.”

“Cut his losses and ran,” Bull mused.

“Right,” Cullen said. “Still, we’ve dealt Samson a blow.”

They wandered throughout the temple, fighting the other ted templars left behind. The entrance to the shrine proper was aglow with red light from the lyrium. Fires burned more prominently here, and in them Eilan could make out books, parchments, and scrolls.

He worked to put fires out on the right side of the room while Solas took care of the ones on the left. But between the flames, the smoke, and the templars, they used up a great deal of the potions they’d brought with.

Bull was panting when they were done, a hand on one knee, and Eilan gave him the last of the health potions.

“There was a cache back there,” Eilan said, feeling a little light-headed. Most of his mana was depleted from putting out the fires, his neck was aching, and he liked the idea of being actually useful. “I can go get more and the rest of you can move on ahead.”

Bull shook his head. “We shouldn’t do too much splitting up, kadan.”

“Very well. Wait here and I’ll go back with Cullen. If anything comes out of the room while we’re gone…”

“Stab it dead. Can do.”

“Unless it’s Samson. We need him alive,” Eilan insisted.

Bull sighed. “Yeah, all right. No stabbing. But it’ll cost you extra.”

“It’s worth every bit of silver. Or gold. Or whatever it is that I pay you,” Eilan assured him with a weary smile.

As they headed back, Eilan leaned on the staff Blackwall had made him and Cullen walked slowly at his side. It took a moment for Eilan to realize he was moving at such a sedate pace not for his own sake but for Eilan’s.

“Do you need some fresh air as well?” Cullen asked.

“No, I’m fine. Honestly.”

Once they were back at the cache, Eilan checked the contents of each vial carefully. None of the stamina potions were safe; their yellow-orange color had turned sickly and slightly black. The lyrium potions were similarly contaminated. The five health potions were surprisingly fine. Maybe the templar assigned to the task had been careless. Or perhaps whoever it was had reasoned that there whoever stopped for the health potions would stop for the other varieties as well. 

At any rate and regardless of how they had come to be free of contamination, EIlan was eager to drink one. And he was just about to when Cullen snatched the bottle from his fingers.

“Eilan, perhaps we should have Dorian or Solas verify your findings.”

“Why?”

“Because you seem a bit out of sorts. If you’re certain, I will defer to your judgment, but if there’s any doubt… Sweetheart, we can’t afford for you to come to harm.”

“Fine,” Eilan said irritably. “I’ll wait.”

Their short trek back to the others was an even slower one, and Eilan found himself wishing he’d ignored Cullen entirely and had a health potion. He felt even more frustrated when Solas took his time studying each vial carefully.

Eventually Eilan sat down a distance away, rubbing his forehead and trying to will himself less cross.

“The health potions are acceptable,” Solas finally said. “The rest will need to be disposed of quite carefully and long before we return to Skyhold.”

“Oh, just give him one already,” Dorian snapped when Bull tried to hand the box of potions to him. “This is a ridiculous waste of our time. Eilan is the one who makes our potions, and look at the poor thing. He’s about to collapse.”

Eilan accepted the bottle, muttering a thank you and rubbing his temples. He was starting to wish he could have been given the other four as well. Or that he’d been wrong about the lyrium potions. Most likely, it was mana that he needed.

Looking down at the bottle, Eilan heard but didn’t see Bull and Cullen open the doors to the shrine. He looked up, unsurprised to find it was just another dark room with some of the largest red lyrium clusters they’d yet to encounter.

“Let’s take a look,” Dorian said. “Or should we wait, Inquisitor?”

“Go on and look,” Eilan said.

It was a bit foolish and petty, but Eilan lingered behind them, sipping the health potion. He didn’t blame Cullen for wanting a second opinion, but he felt a little foggy still. Maybe it was being hit by the behemoth or maybe it was all the smoke? Or both?

He only looked up when the doors to the shrine slammed shut. In front of them there was a mage or at least someone in mage robes. Whoever it was placed a rune on the lock of each door where a key ought to have gone. And when the man turned around, his forehead had the Chantry sunburst branded into it.

Maddox? It must have been. “Are you—” Eilan startled as Samson crouched down in front of him.

“Hello there, Inquisitor. Rutherford’s taking great care of his little mage, I see.”

Eilan clenched one fist, preparing an Inferno spell to use after he fade-stepped away.

“None of that.” Samson grabbed his hand and the magic… Suddenly all of the magic he had was gone. Eilan whimpered and the templar let go, snatching at his chin instead. “Look here. Don’t want to hurt you. Not exactly, all right? So let’s have you not do that, and I won’t have to do worse than this, understood?”

Eilan considered the man’s red-rimmed eyes, which in turn studied him quite fixedly. But while his gaze lingered, Samson had already taken his hand away and got back to his feet.

“Understood.”

The Tranquil mage moved towards them. “This will not hold for long, Samson. Not when those we’ve trapped have sufficient motivation.”

“We don’t need it to. You know who I am,” Samson said, “and this here’s Maddox. We spoke once. Briefly. We need to speak again, Inquisitor. In fact, I’d say it’s high time we did.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this one ends on a cliffhanger of sorts, the next update will be on Wednesday. 
> 
> For those worried, some things are going to go quite differently here than they do in-game. What happens to Maddox is something I've wanted to change ever since I started having the idea for this fic about Eilan, and I find Samson really interesting/tragic/etc. But I suspect most of what I write about Samson will be for the [AU series I've just started](http://archiveofourown.org/series/231441).
> 
> Thanks, Tigercule, for the beta!


	41. Chapter 41

*

“Here’s the thing,” Samson said. “It’s all gotten a bit complicated. All these plans that got made are shifting, changing. What seemed a sure win is turning into quite the loss. You’re the reason why. Even here, you ripped through my men here like it was nothing.”

“So you want to, what? Kill me?”

“How would I do that?” Samson asked. “Why? If he’s losing and you’re winning… I doubt I could end you anymore than I could him. That’s if I had the inclination, mind you, but I’ve got…” He sighed, glancing at Maddox before looking back at Eilan. “Even someone like me was something he’d prefer not to lose, and I know where things are heading for me. What you give is what you get. My loyalty, hasn’t been much, and what I’ve gotten has been more of the same.”

“So you’re here to… bestow this questionable loyalty onto me? As if that excuses—”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Nothing excuse me,” Samson said. “Look, I’ll give you what I know. What you do to me after… I’m not sure it matters, but I can tell you what I want. It’s something you could give and easily too.”

“And that is?”

“What happened with you. The…” Samson brushed an armored glove over his own forehead. “Corypheus called it a mistake, but it’s more than that. Means more than that to you and those like you. And you know how it was reversed now, don’t you?”

Eilan didn’t know precisely how his Tranquility had been removed, but they still had the book Cassandra had been given. The instructions in it, the ritual, could reverse the rite. “And if I did?”

Samson inclined his head towards Maddox who had been watching them, eyes darting between them, his expression calm and neutral.

Eilan frowned, there was every reason to doubt Samson’s sincerity, but he didn’t. Moreover, he didn’t want to. “That’s what you would ask for?”

“I’ve told you. My loyalty is… nothing. But his is absolute, and what can I give him for it but an early grave? He was willing to stay here for me. Willing to poison himself so as not to tell you how this,” Samson said, tapping his chest plate, “works.”

“Poison himself?”

“I cannot allow your questions,” Maddox said quietly. “I would not last against you.”

“Against me?” Eilan felt ill. There was a banging and then a pounding on the door as someone or several someones slammed into them. “I wouldn’t have done anything to you.”

“You have others that follow you. They would not demonstrate the same restraint. They would not express the same reluctance,” Maddox said, his tone placid and matter-of-fact.

“No,” Eilan argued, focusing on Maddox for a moment. “I would never sanction that.” And he wouldn’t. Even if it had been the only way, he would have never allowed someone to coerce another mage, Tranquil or not.

Maddox returned the scrutiny with a studious gaze. “I was the one who destroyed the camp with fire, Inquisitor. Were it up to me, you would not be conversing with Samson.”

“Help me to understand,” Eilan asked gently. “Tell me why you would poison yourself for his sake. I do not doubt your resolve, but I would like to reassure you. To explain to that it need never come to that.”

“I will do what must be done,” Maddox said in a monotone. “Samson saved me even before he needed me. He gave me purpose again. I wanted to help.”

“I see.” Eilan glanced at Samson. “You will turn yourself in, give me the information I need in exchange for…”

“His no longer being Tranquil, yes. Something better for him in the world you’re changing. I’ve only one friend, Inquisitor, just the one. And you know, don’t you? You know what’s it like to be him. To be a thing no one wants. You might work with Chantry folks, but it’s obvious you’re not one of them.”

Eilan sighed. He felt quite conflicted. He was eager to agree, but worried it was the wrong thing to do, particularly as it felt right. He kept trying to think of ways in which this could be a trap of some kind, but there really didn’t seem to be any. Maybe it wasn’t.

“Your word is all I need. Your promise, Inquisitor.”

“And what am I to do with you?”

“Whatever persuades you to help my friend,” Samson said with a shrug. “I can’t… I can’t have him killing himself for me. Maybe I could have done if it weren’t for you. Your good life you got. Your happiness. You were spared because you happened to open the right door at the right time. He can’t just end up a suicide because he didn’t pick the same door. Because he helped me instead. I can’t reconcile it. It’s not right.”

The doors were still being attacked. From the sound of it, his friends were using mauls and swords. He imagined the loudest of the clanging was coming from their using a table as a battering ram.

“It isn’t right,” Eilan calmly agreed, “but I don’t know if that changes anything. Why would you work for Corypheus in the first place? You’ve helped him achieve a number of his goals. Why change your mind now? You would still be aiding him—”

“Being used, being something flawed? That’s what templars are, what they’ve always done. How many of us were left to rot, like I was, after the Chantry burned away their minds?”

Samson spat at the floor after saying the word ‘Chantry.’ Then he shook his head. “Piss on it. I was given nothing, worse than nothing. So I followed Corypheus, I led others to him… Templars like me are all bound to die, Inquisitor. I thought it ought to be at our best. That the dying ought to mean something. It’s the same lie as the Chantry only the prophet just isn’t as pretty.”

Eilan was reminded of what Cassandra had told him about templars and their lyrium addition. What Cullen had said about the matter and about Samson. What this man had done to himself, to others, even to this poor Maddox who still seemed half-convinced he needed to end his own life…

“What you’ve done and where you’ve lead your men… None of that was for the best,” he said. “What the red lyrium has done… What it did to the men who followed you while you yourself remain—”

Samson barked out a laugh. “You think I’m spared? Never in life, Inquisitor. You know what red lyrium does, but you don’t know everything. I can tell you, explain it if you like. What I can tell you for certain is Corypheus only delayed my corruption.”

“What about the men and women who have died for you?” Eilan asked. “So many have died, Samson. They believed in you. They believed in your cause. In Corpyheus being the sort of new god they could follow.”

“Told you, didn’t I?” Samson replied, and there was something in his voice, a sort of quavering of guilt, that made Eilan believe the rest of what followed. “They were always going to die, Inquisitor. Always.”

Samson moved away, looking towards one of the banners still hanging in the room. “I saw what Corypheus was doing, so yes, I fed them hope instead of despair. I made believe their pain had a purpose.” He sighed, running a hand through his thinning hair as he looked towards the stone floor. “It ended as well as anything else I’ve done.”

“We spoke at the Conclave.”

“We did.”

“I remember… I remember some of it.”

“Couldn’t understand why they’d bring you,” Samson said. “But then I didn’t think you’d be able to say no. Wouldn’t want to upset the others from your Circle. You wouldn’t have known about me, what I was… There was no harm in my speaking to you.”

Eilan frowned. “Were you trying to recruit me?”

Samson shrugged. “No. Felt bad, I suppose, knowing what was coming. I thought if you were Tranquil, I’d see if you could be of use. Spared. Frightened you instead. I let it go. Then suddenly there you were again, and you fucked it all up.”

“Unintentionally but without a single regret.”

Samson chuckled. “Right, well… Not great for us, but initially it seemed worse for those clerics scrambling about to pretending they had the situation handled. The Chantry trying as always to clean up all the mess and pretend it never happened in spite of all the witnesses. In spite of you. There was to be more doubts, more chaos... We anticipated more problems would arise from their determined denial. Instead you’ve been a help to them and bloody nuisance to us since day one. What you are, what’s been done to you, it ought to have helped us, but you’re… There must be a lot of forgiveness in you along with all that power you’ve got. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping for some of that mercy now.”

Eilan nodded, still more than a little torn. The man in front of him was a murderer, a traitor, and worse. He had had fought in the service of a monster. That Samson was dangerous, that much couldn’t be argued. And yet, if Eilan had to make use of the Chantry, if he had to help pick a New Divine, if he had to continue to allow the Orlesian Empire to slowly make its way towards any real change… Then why did he have to execute this man?

Doing a small act of kindness for a friend had ruined Samson’s entire life. Delivering love letters had cost Samson not only his livelihood, but also the friend he’d been trying to help. Being caught had plunged their lives into a sort of rot and ruin that Samson had been only too eager to spread later on, at least for a while. Such a tragedy, so many wrongs shaped a person, but because of that… There was something that was redeemable yet. Something in Samson besides red lyrium and bitterness. Something that could still be of use.

“There is… I cannot deny that there is a great deal of forgiveness in me,” Eilan said. “I would not wish harm to come to Maddox either by his own hand or through my actions. And I believe that your death would not bring me the satisfaction which it ought.”

“Then I have your—”

The doors burst open, smashing into their respective walls. Their runes fell away, crumbling to dust before they could hit the stones. 

Realizing what the others would do as soon as they saw Samson, Eilan waved a hand, creating a wall of fire between them.

“Stop,” he shouted, a little surprised when everyone did so. “Just a moment.”

Bull skidded to a half just shy of the flames, but still got one horn set on fire and was cursing loudly. 

Cullen’s fingers were gripping his sword and his teeth were bearing down hard against one another.

Cassandra’s expression mirrored Cullen’s. 

Only the mages seemed fairly calm about the matter. Solas was putting up barriers since they were all gathered close together in a group. Dorian had just crossed his arms and was rolling his eyes.

Eilan sighed heavily, glancing at Maddox. He nodded to him before looking to Samson. “You have my word.” Then he cleared his throat, putting on the fire with a Winter spell.

Once the flames were gone, Bull moved, stopping only when he reached Eilan. He let a hand rest against Eilan’s back, fingers stroking lightly. The look he gave Samson was flinty and unpleasant.

“I believe that I can pass formal judgment here and so I shall,” Eilan announced to the group at large. “Samson, you will spend the remainder of your years serving the Inquisition. Cullen will be your handler. Maddox, you will be an agent of the Inquisition if that is your wish. Even if it is not, you will be able to see Samson, and we will work to restore you to your former self. That is all I can offer.”

“We’ll take it,” Samson muttered.

“You can’t be serious,” Cullen said, coming to stand in front of Eilan. “You can’t have just decided that, Inquisitor. What’s he done to you?”

“Nothing,” Eilan insisted. “We talked, that’s all. And I don’t think it’s what I’ve done to him nor is it what he’s done to me.” It was, Eilan thought, what the Chantry had done to both of them. To their people. “It is about what will serve the Inquisition and help us achieve our goals.”

“Is he to be some sort of honored guest? He is a traitor and a conspirator,” Cullen insisted. “The blood on his hands cannot be measured.”

“Our scouts and soldiers will escort Samson and Maddox to Skyhold. Or at least I should like for them to, but if any issues arise, I shall do it myself.”

“I see,” Cullen murmured. 

He was trying his best to come to terms with this decision. Eilan understand that just as he understood why this was so difficult for Cullen to accept. Cullen, like Bull or Cassandra, would most likely have preferred a fight, some sort of trial by combat before Eilan had rendered this particular verdict. 

“Samson will tell us what we wish to know, and that information is invaluable. And that said, I don’t…” Eilan cleared his throat. “Commander… Cullen, understand that this is my decision. You will work with Samson. Perhaps you will get something useful out of him.”

Samson snorted. “I doubt the Commander believes there’s anything worthy left in me.”

Cullen scowled. “You are weak, and your leadership proves it. What you did—”

“I gave them hope, Commander. Just like the Chantry, just like you.” Samson shook his head. “But just like in Kirkwall… Just like anywhere else, I’m weak, and you’re a savior. I get it. I get what you are, and I get what I am. How could I ever forget?”

Cullen scowled, facing down Samson for the first time in years. Eventually he lowered his shield and his sword.

“What you are… Most of that is beyond redemption, beneath me and my time.” Cullen sighed, looking at Eilan for a moment, debating something. He then focused on Samson, expression determined rather than angry. “And yet I recognize, Samson, that the Order and the Chantry failed you just as they failed us all.”

Samson blinked.

“You tried to serve a cause greater than yourself once,” Cullen pointed out, “and you were denied that option for all the wrong reasons. None of that comes close to excusing what you have made of yourself or others. But if the Inquisitor believes that there is something in you that warrants his mercy, then I will do the same. Perhaps there is some small part of you that can still do a bit of good after all.”

Dorian cleared his throat rather pointedly. “Yes, well, as touching as this is… I just spent fifteen minutes dealing with doors that wouldn’t budge with your Commander barking in my ear and your Qunari close to losing what little mind he has. And so, Inquisitor, I should like to be informed in full of what I missed.”

*

The explanation didn’t take very long, although there were interruptions and the occasional, heated disagreement.

Cassandra seemed to accept the decision in the same grudging manner as Cullen, which was, to be fair, their typical, non-verbal response of Eilan’s judgments.

Cullen did move closer to Eilan however, his expression and demeanor softening as Eilan went over their conversation.

Solas seemed pleased, but whether this was in regards to Maddox, Samson, or both men was impossible to say.

Dorian seemed a touch conflicted, but not entirely upset.

Bull nodded his approval, glancing only out of the corner of his eye at Maddox, uncertain as to what to make of him.

After that, Cassandra, Dorian and Solas went to fetch the necessary soldiers from their camp just outside of the temple.

The rest of them stood there in awkward silence for nearly twenty minutes. As they heard the sound of armored boot-steps moving towards them, Samson looked to Maddox. “Give it over,” he said.

“I should like to keep it.”

“Give it over,” Samson said. “To the Inquisitor.”

Maddox did not immediately comply. Instead he stared impassively at Samson while the other man stared somewhat beseechingly at him.

Samson rolled his eyes, touching Maddox’s shoulder. “Listen,” he said. “It’s not going to be the same for us. Not anymore. Not like what we’re used to, all right? That’s bad enough without you holding onto it.”

Maddox reached into the folds of his robe, blinking when Cullen pointed a sword at him. “You are concerned for no reason, Knight-Captain Cullen. There is no one I would harm save for myself.”

“As if that is somehow acceptable,” Cullen muttered. “What are you even doing?”

“He’s fine,” Eilan insisted, gesturing for Cullen to put the sword away. He was a little relieved when Cullen readily complied. “It is, however, Commander Cullen now, Maddox.”

“Commander Cullen then. There is no need for alarm.” Maddox gently pulled out his hand and a bottle, its liquid a dark purple. He held it aloft, letting Samson see it. “Here. Blightcap essence,” he explained as he gave the bottle to Eilan. “I will trust you, Inquisitor.”

Eilan paled, taking the poison from him. He had realized, of course, that the other mage was serious, but blightcap essence… “Thank you, Maddox,” Eilan replied, swallowing hard. “And all shall be well. I will endeavor to right by you, I promise.”

“I believe you,” Maddox calmly replied.

The soldiers entered. Samson held out his hands, letting himself be clasped in iron as if it was the sort of thing he’d grown used to.

“No,” Eilan said when the soldiers moved onto Maddox. “He doesn’t need them, and you will simply lead the prisoner,” he said, pointing to Samson, “to camp and to a wagon. At that point, you will show this man,” he added, indicating Maddox, “to a tent, and then you will leave him be. Both of them are invaluable to the Inquisition. I will continue to investigate the shrine until nightfall. No harm is to come to either one of them before or after I return to camp. Is that clear?”

The soldiers nodded, saluting hesitantly.

“Are they not to take them directly to Skyhold?” Cassandra asked.

“I think it would be best if I were to provide that escort myself. With your assistance, of course.”

“If you think it best,” she said. “I shall monitor the situation starting now. How we treat our foes, prisoners, and agents reflects on us.” And with that she followed the soldiers, Samson, and Maddox from the room.

*

Bull hauled Eilan into a hug once the others were gone. “At least it was only a set of doors keeping you from me.”

“And not even demonic ones,” Eilan agreed. He glanced over towards Cullen. “I know… That is, I realize…”

“Perhaps this is for the best,” Cullen said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I understand why you chose as you did. I do, Eilan. Maddox would have… And for Samson of all people.”

Eilan sighed, the slight weight of the blightcap essence in his pocket suddenly felt very heavy as he rubbed his forehead. “It is the one thing he could do. He wasn’t wrong. I think that the one person a Tranquil can always hurt is himself. Physically, I mean, and if it’s to protect someone else… But I couldn’t let him, Cullen.”

Cullen set a hand on Eilan’s shoulder and kissed his cheek. “I know. I meant what I said to Samson. Although I must admit… I’d have preferred a more violent altercation if not a conclusion.”

“Yeah, would have been nice,” Bull muttered. “Too much talking sometimes.”

“Still, I’m not sure what else you could have decided given that they surrendered without so much as a fight. Samson must know quite a bit about Corypheus, and we will need that information.”

“We should see if there’s any information to salvage here as well,” Eilan said. “As for my decision… I don’t really want anyone to die if it can be avoided. It is only a shame that I will let Samson live while I’ve killed so many others today who were merely carrying out his orders.” 

Nameless, misguided, and mutated templars who deserved better than what they’d gotten from anyone they’d followed. If there was blood on Samson’s hands, then...

“No more thinking,” Bull said, kissing Eilan’s hair. “No doubting. You made a decision. You’ve done what you’ve had to.” It was what Bull said after every judgment, but that didn’t keep his words from providing the reassurance and comfort Eilan sorely needed.

“You’re right,” Eilan said quietly. 

“You made a good call, kadan. Death isn’t always a fitting punishment. In fact, it hardly ever is. Having Corypheus’ general surrender to you? All but defect to our side when confronted in the middle of his own fortress? That looks a hell of a lot better than you butchering him. And Cullen can straighten him out. So to speak.”

“I shall certainly do my best,” Cullen muttered.

“I just would… I don’t want you to be disappointed,” Eilan said, glancing primarily at Cullen even as he moved closer to Bull who put an arm around him. Bull was harder to disappoint, and well aware of how much his opinion meant.

“Not in you. Never in you,” Cullen insisted, moving closer and kissing Eilan’s cheek. “Perhaps merely in myself. The Chantry failed him. The Chantry failed Maddox. The Chantry failed you. I realize that, for a long time, I couldn’t admit that even to myself. Just as there was a time when none of that would have bothered me.” 

“We’ve been over this, I know. I’m not that man now, so there’s no need to tell me,” Cullen added when Eilan tried to interrupt. “But, sweetheart, I also know that things are the way they are because people like me still look the other way. Even when the sky is raining demons down on their heads, people look away. I don’t want to keep looking away from my past, and Samson was a part of that.”

“Which means you have to work harder to make something of that asshole we just collected,” Bull said. “What’s the plan for his friend?”

“Ideally?” Eilan replied, “Reversing the rite. I shall have to speak to Solas and Cole. And… um… you know…”

Cullen sighed. “Must you?”

“He could have some insight on the matter, and if we attempt the ritual, he could prove useful.”

“I like it. Plus then he’ll bring his hot Vint with.”

“That rather depends. After all, we wouldn’t hold the ritual at Skyhold if he can help,” Eilan insisted. “The Inquisition can scarcely afford for us to have that sort of connection. Not yet.” But it was an incentive in terms of selecting the proper Divine. One who Eilan could work with, one who would work for the betterment of mages, and one who might consider…

“Not for a good while, I should think,” Cullen put in. “In all honesty, I don’t wish for anything particularly pleasant to happen to Anders, but if you do, he ought to maintain a low profile. And he ought to return to Tevinter with his mildly attractive—”

Bull grunted. “Hey. She is hot and you know it.”

“With his wife,” Cullen continued in an exasperated tone.

“You’re just upset she sent you that scented handkerchief.”

“I just don’t particularly enjoy commenting on the appearance of others when I’m with my lover who is, I should think, the most attractive mage around.”

“She is very pretty though,” Eilan said. “And very nice. I quite like her. And I don’t think it’ll be a good long while, Cullen. I think at some point things have to change for mages. I’m not saying what he did was right, but I think… So much has happened…”

“You’ve yet to steer us wrong, but I’m not sure I can see anyone making peace if Anders is too terribly involved. I think he knew as much. I don’t think he expected, truthfully, to live this long.”

“Well, one thing we can all agree on is he’s going to keep on living,” Bull said. “Especially if Eilan wants him to. Doesn’t have to be here, but it does have to happen.”

“Fair enough,” Cullen said. “Now let’s be done with this temple if you don’t mind. We’ve a prisoner to escort, which, in case you didn’t notice, Bull… Delays our dragon hunting by quite a bit.”

“….no, really?” Bull asked with a frown. “Fuck. Bad call, kadan. The worst call.”

Eilan laughed. “I’m sorry, dear.”

“Not sorry enough.” Bull scooped Eilan up then gently maneuvered him onto one shoulder. “There,” he said, putting a large hand on Eilan’s thigh. “You’re staying up there for awhile. Until you can make better decisions.”

Eilan laughed again, brushing his fingers over Bull’s horns. “Is…this an actual punishment?”

“It’s the best I’ve got right now,” Bull said, heading out of the temple. “Might have to kiss you a bunch of times in front of your men too.”

“I hope some of those times are in front of me,” Cullen said with a smirk as he walked alongside them. “I do like the way you make him blush.”

“Can I be held later though?” Eilan asked, smiling at Cullen and stroking Bull’s cheek. “If I’m good.”

“Either way, you can get whatever you want,” Bull promised.

“Always,” Cullen agreed.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt that, for Eilan and the direction of this fic, I really needed to change how Before the Dawn played out. It made more sense for everything to take a slightly different route, particularly where Maddox is concerned. And a portion of the dialogue is from both that quest and also Samson's judgment.
> 
> Thanks, Tigercule, for the beta. And Bakaknight for looking things over. The next chapter should be up next week either on Monday or Wednesday.
> 
>  **ETA** : The next chapter ~~is still being finished. It'll be up at some point soon, but most likely not until later in the week or the weekend. We'll see.~~ will be up on Monday.


	42. Chapter 42

*

The trip back to Skyhold was uneventful at best, but then the Shrine of Dumat had given Eilan plenty to do and a great deal to think about.

Returning early had two benefits, however. Solas could study the eluvian in more detail and Eilan could take a bit of free time.

Eilan spent most of this impromptu break hunting down supplies and herbs. He couldn’t really do much on his own without someone fussing, but he could go out with only Bull from time to time.

And he needed to be outdoors. He needed to something with his time besides wonder if he’d really manage to do away with Corypheus altogether. Every day it was starting to seem more like something he could honestly do, which somehow only made the task seem more daunting. Saving the world was an interesting notion, but having it go from concept to reality was still rather strange.

Eilan was clipping crystal grace when a message arrived or, rather, flew to him. A small blue bird carried it and dissipated once the letter was in his hand. Spirit energy, obviously, similar to the sort he used to construct spirit blades. It was a rather useful application albeit non-lethal.

Eilan found himself wishing he knew how to do spells like that. His magic, more often than not, consisted of a series of defensive and offensive spells. Something more wholesome would have suited him better.

“So a little bird told you,” Bull said after looking the letter over. It was a very short letter on lightly scented parchment asking to meet with Eilan and signed with a flourished M. Rolled up inside of the letter was a map. “We’re practically in the Hinterlands. Might as well go now.”

“I doubt that very much.”

“Why?”

“Well for one thing… Shouldn’t we tell someone?”

Bull raised an eyebrow. “You seem to forget you’re the boss, kadan. You can do whatever you want without reporting back.”

“Yes, but she says tomorrow would be better. And I’m sure she’d prefer I arrived on schedule. Um.” Eilan sighed. “No offense, dear, but maybe I should go alone.”

Bull snorted. “I’m not going to pick a fight with your evil friend. Well, not any more than I pick a fight with Dorian.”

“He’s not evil. Neither is Anders.”

Bull shrugged. “True. He’s made some bad choices and some good ones.”

“If you say anything about his attractive wife, I really will leave you at home.”

“That’s unfair.”

“I’m the boss.”

“Wielding your power at last and for such petty reasons. You make me proud, kadan.”

Eilan smiled.

“Speaking of Vints we put up with, you probably should bring Dorian with.”

“Probably.”

“So we’ll go tomorrow.”

“Yes, but we won’t tell him where we’re going. Not right away.”

Bull grinned. “Smart move. I like the face he makes when we’re about to drag him off into some nature.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of avoiding his having any sort of overt reaction before we’ clear of Skyhold.”

“Oh yeah right.”

“I don’t enjoy his pout nearly as much as you do.”

Bull picked Eilan up, setting him on one shoulder. “We’ll get back to the keep faster if I do the walking.”

“All right.”

Bull grunted as he started walking. “Might be slow either way. What the fuck’s in your pockets? A boulder?”

Eilan laughed. “Just some plants.”

“More like a forest. So… We visit your friends then we deal with this elf crap. Then… dragons maybe?”

“Yes but… Could you do something for me?”

Bull glanced up. “You don’t have to ask, you know. Just tell me.”

“I prefer asking,” Eilan insisted, petting Bull’s horns. “And the request is… Well, to be honest, it’s a bit frivolous.”

“Yeah?”

“I want to see you and Cullen spar.”

“You never want much,” Bull pointed out. “Don’t get me wrong, I like that you’re easy to please, but… Sometimes I wonder if you get just how much I’d do for you.”

“I know.”

“Uh huh. All right. I’ll arrange some sparring for this afternoon. Shouldn’t take us long to get back. Shirtless, I’m guessing?”

Eilan sighed, coloring slightly. “I… If you can get him to.”

Bull smirked. “Oh, don’t worry, baby. We always work up a sweat.”

They got back to Skyhold fairly quickly. Bull offered to deal with the herbs as he set Eilan down in front of the gates. Eilan tugged him down gently into a kiss before dashing off. He had rounds to make, after all.

Everyone seemed to be doing well enough. Blackwall seemed more morose than usual though. Eilan watched him work on the griffin for a while and then asked if they could maybe grab drinks together the following evening. The offer had only made the Grey Warden grimace all the more, but eventually Blackwall agreed.

Then, after hastily eating lunch and preparing two more meals, Eilan headed down to the training grounds.

Bull and Cullen had just arrived.

Cullen smiled when Eilan waved to him. “Successful trip, I gather?”

“Yes.”

“Is that a basket full of herbs?”

“It’s lunch for after.”

Cullen kissed Eilan’s cheek and then his lips. “How thoughtful of you, sweetheart. Thank you.”

“I figured it was the least I could do. And it might get cold,” Eilan protested but he returned Cullen’s kiss just the same.

Bull winked when Eilan glanced at him. Since he only had the one eye, the gesture was as ridiculous as it was endearing. “Okay make me look good,” he said to Cullen.

“I believe in this case it’s every man for himself. You can pick the weapon if you like.”

“We could wrestle.”

Cullen rolled his eyes, glancing at Eilan. “Is that what you’d like, sweetheart?”

“I, um…”

Bull cleared his throat. “He’s watching. Ignore him and let’s fight. He can’t enjoy himself otherwise. You sit here.” He gently nudged Eilan to a low stonewall. Eilan sat on the edge of it, not entirely surprised when Dorian joined him there.

“I do enjoy these entertaining morale boosts you occasionally provide me with.”

“I thought you didn’t like Bull all that much.”

“Oh I don’t,” Dorian said with a smirk. “Still, I can appreciate parts of him, and, well, you’ve prevented me from seeing more of Cullen during our one game of Wicked Grace. So you might as well let me see him shirtless again.”

“I suppose that’s... fair.”

The sparring was a bit… Well, not disappointing but normal in many ways as the two men started out. They used shields then swords. Then axes. But Eilan’s interest perked up when they switched to hand-to-hand combat. Cullen had been shedding armor and by this point he was shirtless. Not to mention vaguely tan and gleaming.

“I should hate you,” Dorian murmured. “I don’t, but I should.”

“I don’t want you to, but I wouldn’t blame you. And I’d say I was sorry but I’m not. Not about them, anyway.”

Dorian chuckled, patting Eilan’s shoulder. Neither one of them were looking at each other. Their collective attention was still focused on the two warriors. “That’s probably why I don’t resent you. That and I suspect it is unhealthy to loathe a close friend.”

 _Speaking of close friends_ , Eilan thought. “Would you mind coming with us tomorrow?”

“I suppose not. Unless there’s to be a surprise dragon. I really didn’t enjoy that the first time.”

“That wasn’t intentional.”

“Not on your part. But I don’t want to deal with dragons of any kind. That goes double for surprise giants or manticores. Or carrying around sacks full of shrubs as I follow you and that lummox around as you’re both being all... lovey-dovey.”

Eilan laughed. “You’ll like where we’re going.”

“I better,” Dorian warned but he smiled just the same.

*

It was a relief, really, that Cullen understood why Eilan couldn’t bring him with. Keeping this sort of thing a secret from someone he loved would have been impossible, but letting him come along would have been equally unfeasible.

He couldn’t bring Cullen along. He couldn’t do that to Anders whose experiences with templars, including Cullen, hadn’t been entirely pleasant. And he imagined Maevaris, despite her lack of experience with templars outside of the Imperium, would be unlikely to extend more invitations if her husband felt threatened.

“We’ll just have to spend some time together tomorrow,” Cullen said with a feigned shrug. He wasn’t very pleased to be letting Eilan out of his sight in order to visit an apostate and a magister. “Assuming they don’t drug your tea and kidnap you back to the Imperium.”

“Is this over my dead body?” Bull had asked in a somewhat bristling tone. “Granted it’s a ridiculous idea, but I am really good at my job.”

“Oh. Um. Right,” Cullen had managed. He blinked a bit as mounts were led out for Eilan, Bull and Dorian. Then he scowled. “Maker’s Sake, this will never do.”

Eilan glanced at the three animals and found that he agreed. Traveling with a Qunari made a group stand out anyway, but not as much as riding around on a pink Wild Hart, a dracolisk, and a nuggalope would.

The wild hart and dracolisk were frequent companions by this point. The yet to be named nuggalope was a mount that Bull had gotten after buying a very expensive mystery box in Orlais. This had led to several operations reluctantly handled by a skeptical Cullen, and finally more oddities for Eilan’s stable menagerie.

“Yeah, I wonder what they were thinking,” Bull muttered sheepishly.

Cullen missed this as he was looking to the young soldiers who had led the animals out. “Three coursers, if you please,” he said. “Failing that, fetch the most average run-of-the-mill _horses_ that you have ever seen.”

“But the Inquisitor—”

“Is hoping not to blind everyone in a two mile radius with a pink deer, thank you very much.”

“It’s only he said…”

Cullen looked at Eilan.

“No, the big one,” the youngest of the soldiers meekly said. “Sir.”

Cullen gave Bull a sharp look.

“I like the nuggalope,” Bull explained rather petulantly. “And I love pink.”

“And the overgrown lizard?” Dorian asked irritably. “Or were you just trying to ensure that we looked like escapees from an Orlesian carnival?”

Bull shrugged. “I figured it out annoy you.”

Dorian snorted. “Of course you did.”

Cullen sighed. “You can bring the nuggalope with to Emprise du Lion when we’re hunting down dragons,” he decided. “Provided he doesn’t accompany you on this particular excursion.”

Bull grinned. “Deal.”

“Ridiculous,” Dorian muttered. 

Eilan just laughed before kissing Cullen goodbye.

Thankfully the small map he’d been sent was straightforward unlike the ones he’d found from time to time where a waterfall or cliff ledge would be circled in red.

It also helped that Maevaris and Anders were staying at a hunting lodge. He imagined its owner, who must have been a well-to-do Bann or Orleisian noble, was an associate of Maevaris’ and not a former acquaintance of Anders. But then if she had the influence, there was no reason not to use it on her husband’s behalf.

Maevaris greeted them, although she mainly (and quite enthusiastically) focused on Dorian who soaked up the affection like a flower starved for sunlight. She ushered them inside.

“I imagine you’d like some privacy,” Maevaris said, patting Dorian’s shoulder. The look she gave Bull wasn’t hostile but it wasn’t entirely friendly. “I imagine you’re leaving these two with me then. Well, there’s plenty of food to be had.”

“Cookies?” Bull asked.

She smiled. “Scones and macaroons. And tea, although I suppose you’d prefer beer.”

Bull grinned at her. “Awesome. I’m in.” He glanced over at Eilan. “You good on your own, kadan?”

“I’ll be fine,” Eilan said with a smile.

“And you need a proper meal,” Maevaris said, considering Dorian. “With some actual flavor and spices.”

“Yes, please. The food here is insufferably pedestrian.”

Maevaris laughed. “Well, Anders is the study across the hall, Inquisitor. The far door on your right with a bear on its doorknob. When you’re done, tell him to show you to the dining room. And not just to point out where it is. He’s to accompany you.” Then she headed towards the kitchens with the others in tow.

Eilan found the door easily enough. The study was paneled in rich red mahogany with a high-vaulted ceiling and stained glass windows. The walls were covered in the stuffed heads of all sorts of fauna. There was also a giant skull in a glass case next to a very lonely-looking bookshelf.

Anders was in a rather large armchair with a high back. It was decorated in antlers, the leather embellished with swirling patterns. The arms of the chair were a carved dark wood fashioned to resemble mabari paws. Anders’ hands were steepled in front of him as he contemplated a journal on a large oak table.

“It looks like a giant lives here,” Eilan said.

“It does,” Anders agreed, glancing up and closing the journal. “And not a very well-read one at that. There’s just the one bookshelf,” he added, gesturing towards it with one hand, “and the only remotely academic title is a book of bawdy ballads. Still, it’s nice of whomever to lend it to us.”

Eilan laughed. “Whomever?”

Anders shrugged. “Baron Some Such from Some Place in Orlais. Honestly, all I know is he’s fond of Mae.”

“Not of you?”

“I’m not sure he knew what to make of me. With Maevaris, there’s a...history,” Anders said, his expression darkening momentarily but lightening once more. “They’ve gone hunting together. In the past, mind you. At any rate, I’m sure it hardly matters. I’ve never known what to think of people who stick dead things up on their walls.”

“I’m not sure I do either.”

“Pull a chair over if you can. Otherwise I can help you drag it over here. Or you could always summon up your Qunari.”

Eilan laughed, pushing over a small leather chair rather than one of the more ornate pieces of furniture. “He’d like the dragon head and the giant skull,” he mused as he sat down.

Anders smiled. “I’m sure he would. Now, I hardly want to take up too much of your time considering how valuable it is, but we ought to talk about a few matters. And I have some questions if you’re willing to consider them.”

“I’d like that.”

“First and foremost, I’m sure Hawke has told you of our previous encounter with Corypheus.”

“Only a little.”

“It was there as well only…” Anders sighed. “Suffice it to say I was not at my best.”

“His influence over Grey Wardens,” Eilan said sympathetically. “It seems to be worse for mages.”

“At the time it was. I’ve… It’s early days yet but Surana is working on a rather ambitious project. Both she and I are its only test subjects.”

“So the false Calling...?”

“Still seemed real at first, I’m sorry to say,” Anders said. “More for Maevaris’ sake than my own. When I was informed of the truth by Stroud, I was able to continue to resist that old bastard.”

“Good. If this something she’ll be sharing with the other Grey Wardens?”

“If we continue to do well then yes. Whether the matter is brought directly to Weissupt’s attention is another matter.”

Eilan nodded. “The pair of Wardens we sent have yet to return.”

“It is more the oath that makes her reticent.”

“In death, sacrifice?”

“And the rest of it as well. Many of the Grey Wardens did not start out as noble, honorable souls interested in performing selfless deeds of altruism. I did it to avoid templars, and you can see how little the oath meant to me.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“You’d be of a very small minority,” Anders said with a shrug. “I made my peace with it long ago. I realize there is no possible way for me to remain outside of the Imperium for very long, but as long as the world changes, I remain content.”

And unapologetic, but then as Anders had said, he’d made his peace with what he’d done. There was no real way of knowing how hard that had been, but Eilan suspected that it had been difficult and taken a long time. There was no denying Anders’ actions were reprehensible, but there was no denying that he was right. The world was changing.

“At any rate, Grey Wardens are often criminals and occasionally murderers. Surana is one of the more noble sorts, but she still participated in a very ill-advised scheme to steal a friend’s phylactery. She might have died in Kinloch Hold if Duncan hadn’t recruited her.”

“I’m glad it’s working.”

“I am too. As it is, if I die on her, I’m fairly certainly Maevaris will have Dorian bring me back to life so she can kill me again.”

“That sounds fair to me.”

Anders smiled. “Considering your abilities, I doubt you’ll need it but I wouldn’t mind providing assistance. When you face Corpyheus, which seems rather inevitable.”

“It does. I… That is, I’d like your help… Only…”

Anders chuckled. “Oh, I have no plans on wandering up to Skyhold. You could just inform me of when and where. Or have Morrigan do so.”

“It seems like everyone knows everyone else,” Eilan said a bit wistfully.

“Yes, but… Sometimes that doesn’t always work in your favor. The past doesn’t help shape the present or the future. And in my case, most of the people I’m familiar with wish they didn’t know me. I know it’s a rather obvious statement to make in light of your previous circumstances, but I honestly think you’re better off as you are.”

Eilan nodded.

“Do you have any idea how it was possible?”

“For me?” Eilan shook his head. Then he hesitated before deciding that there was no harm in sharing what he’d learned with Anders. “But I’ve learned of another method to reverse the rite.”

Anders blinked then he frowned. His gaze turned towards nothing in particular, but he avoided Eilan altogether for a moment.

“It’s hard to say if… That is, I’m not sure how many Tranquil will agree to the reversal, Only one has so far.”

“How can the rite be reversed?” Anders asked, his jawline tense.

“A spirit of compassion. It’s a method the Seekers use in their training.”

“I see.” Anders closed his eyes and sighed. “I had a friend… A lover, actually. Karl Thekla. They made him Tranquil despite his being a mage and because of me. And I… He asked me to…”

“To kill him?”

“Yes,” Anders admitted. “Justice’s abilities allowed me to restore Karl to his former self. Temporarily. Karl told me what it was like to be Tranquil, to be...kept from so much of who he had always been. He told me he wanted to die before… And it always comes back to the fucking Chantry,” he said, his tone icy from anger. “Its secrets. Its rites. Always.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You are not the one who should be apologizing,” Anders insisted, calming down a bit. There was a blue sheen to his eyes, but it dissipated quickly. “Never you.”

“I suppose you’re right only... I am so sorry for your loss, Anders. For what he went through.”

“I am as well. Even more so now. I thought it was,” Anders sighed heavily. “Forgive me, but I thought it was merciful.”

“It was,” Eilan said quietly. “He would have had to spend years in that condition and he might have refused later on when offered to have the rite reversed. That’s also assuming he lived to see that happen. Considering the situation in Kirkwall... that seems unlikely.”

“It does,” Anders admitted, but saying as much obviously brought very little in the way of comfort.

“If that’s how he truly felt…” Eilan frowned. “You said you restored his true self briefly. Could you replicate that for others?”

“How so?”

“I want consent from the Tranquil. I don’t want to hurt them and I know the reversal is painful. I want to make sure it’s what they want, and so far it’s been impossible to tell.” He suspected Maddox was agreeing primarily because Samson wanted him to.

“I could. You might not like what they decide.”

“I’m willing to take that risk. I will speak to Solas and work out a meeting if you’re willing.”

“More than willing. I’m a healer and… Any chance I have to put my skills to work… That means a good deal to me, Inquisitor.”

“Eilan.”

Anders smiled thinly. “Eilan then.” 

They spoke of other matters as well. Anders didn’t seem to agree entirely with Eilan’s and Solas’ thoughts on the Chantry moving forward, but he seemed to understand what they’d decided thus far. His ire wouldn’t have changed what Eilan did, but the other mage’s approval meant a good deal to him.

Then they moved on to more casual topics like botany and potions.

They might have kept talking, but there was a knock at the door and then Maevaris entered.

She glowered at Anders, resting a hand on a hip. “You are the worst.”

“I am at times,” Anders agreed.

“And if you had a proper name, I would be using the whole of it right now to express my displeasure.”

“What have I done?”

“What you haven’t done is eaten anything all day. A situation that you are to address immediately.”

“We were discussing a compendium on…” Anders cleared his throat as his wife stared at him. “That is… Of course, sweetheart.”

She nodded curtly, pointing him to the door.

Anders sighed as he stood. “No choice for it,” he said rather sheepishly to Eilan.

“None whatsoever,” Maevaris cheerfully agreed. Her expression softened as she looked at Eilan. Her smile was very friendly, making it clear that she wasn’t at all angry with him. “You’re welcome to join us.”

“You might as well,” Anders agreed. “She won’t yell at you.”

“He’s not mine to yell at,” Maevaris pointed out. She rolled her eyes when Anders kissed her cheek. “Move along.”

Anders did so, but he took her arm, bringing her with him.

Eilan followed them out. He hadn’t spent much time around couples let alone married couples. He wondered if this was what it was like sometimes for the others, being curious, amused, and little overwhelmed by how two people could be so close to one another. He hoped so.

*

Bull, it seemed, had been gobbling down macaroons for a considerable amount of time. “Are we recruiting them?” he asked. “Because we should.”

“She doesn’t just make cookies,” Dorian grumbled. His eyes narrowed when he saw Eilan. “You owe me. This idiot has ruined the entire day.”

“Did not.”

“Did so. You polished off all of the desserts. Then, as if your manners weren’t appalling enough, you involved yourself in our private conversations.”

“Not all of the cookies. You got one. Or two.. And not all of the conversations.”

“Only because we switched to Tevene,” Maevaris said as she poured herself some coffee. She’d already eaten but she was watching Anders closely. He didn’t seem to mind. 

There was a bit of silence. Eventually, Maevaris turned to Eilan and asked: “Could you see your way to letting me keep Dorian for a few more hours?” Eilan imagined by now she was satisfied that Anders was going to continue making his way through his meal.

“Only if he comes back. He’s invaluable and indispensable to me.”

Dorian preened slightly. “I see what you’re doing, Eilan, but… thank you.”

“I’ll send him back. Most likely with a set of sweaters and a new scarf. I don’t know how you can stand this sort of weather.”

Bull shrugged. “It’s not so bad this time of year.”

Anders laughed. “For her it is. Although this is nothing compared to her reaction to winter.”

Maevaris scowled. “That wasn’t a winter. That was an endless blizzard for months on end.”

“It doesn’t snow much in Tevinter?” Eilan asked.

“Not the way it does here,” Maevaris said rather primly. “Our seasons are more sensible.”

“They really are,” Dorian said a bit mournfully.

“You’re still to come back to Skyhold,” Eilan insisted.

At any other time, he might have pitied his friend, but at the moment he found he was a little worried. As everything drew to a close and Dorian’s preferences remained as they were… It was possible he’d go home altogether even with the way Dorian felt about his family. He had his birthright now. Eilan ought to have felt happy for him, instead he just felt anxious.

Some of this must have colored his tone, for Dorian offered him a reassuring and slightly pitying smile. “I’m not going to leave you just yet.”

“But he might,” Eilan said to Bull as they saddled up their respective mounts. “He might go back.”

Bull waited until his horse accepted her bit. Then he let the reins drop and hauled Eilan into a hug. “You’d see that damned Vint again even if he did. Maybe not as much as you’d like, but you’d see him. I know it’s hard, kadan, and I know you got used to living in a tower where you didn’t get to go anywhere at all… But friendships and relationships don’t just last because of proximity.”

“No?”

“No. They last because of the connection. The spark between two or more people. A spark that becomes so vital that to constantly be without that person is to be diminished and devastated. So even if Dorian goes home, that’s not the end of anything.”

“Would you go if you could? If things were different?”

“Told you. I’m not a fan of ifs. I fully support what is.”

“But…”

Bull shook his head. “Where would I go? And why would I leave my heart behind? Besides,” he added with a grin. “I like living in a castle.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay. Momentum and motivation has been considerably lacking of late for me due a number of issues both related to writing and not. Rest assured, I have no intention of discontinuing the fic, but progress might be slower simply because I don't want to write rushed, summarized chapters out of a guilty effort to just to be done with it. I want the quality of this fic to be consistent throughout. 
> 
> In terms of updates, writing progress, and general nonsense, see my [twitter](https://twitter.com/cruelestmonth6) or [tumblr](http://cruelestmonth.tumblr.com/) for now. Feel free to follow me on either one. Or both. :)
> 
> And last but not least, thank you for looking this chapter over, BakaKnight.


	43. Chapter 43

*

Back at Skyhold, Eilan made his rounds once again. Solas didn’t have time to talk, or at least did not seem particularly keen on being interrupted. Blackwall suggested they speak later at the tavern. Everyone seemed to be varying degrees of restless, but then with Samson’s surrender and a need to visit the Arbor Wilds in order to move forward in their plans to deal with Corypheus, it was to be expected.

That being the case, Eilan decided to take care of some much-neglected business that had been waiting since his return for Orlais. He made his way down the stone steps to the dungeons. The place had been repaired in what seemed like a rather hasty job, but he supposed seeing to their prisoners’ comfort wasn’t their highest priority. The cells at least had been made a bit more decent with mattresses rather than a thin layer of hay, and the guards assigned to the prisoners were seasoned veterans happy to have a break from larger battles.

It was hard to say what had precisely had made Eilan willing to let Alexius live. He imagined that, ironically, it was time more than anything else that made him see his way towards mercy. And Felix. And Dorian. And perhaps understanding what it was like to have someone you would do anything for. He’d been helpful, assisting the mages and Dagna, but he remained primarily in his cell.

Felix Alexius was sitting on a rickety wooden chair, speaking to his father. He was dressed in blue and silver armor, looking hale and hearty.

“Hello, Inquisitor,” he said cheerfully, rising to his feet.

“Felix,” Eilan said in the same tone. “So it all worked out then. With the Grey Wardens, I mean.” Certain things were obviously not working out as Felix might have preferred. 

“Very much so. I was hoping to tell Dorian so I can tell him all about the sort of special snowflake I’ve become.”

Eilan laughed. “He’s out at the moment, but I’m sure he’ll return before nightfall.”

“Good. And… well… I look forward to serving the Inquisition and all of the Thedas. And I can’t thank you enough for your help, Inquisitor.”

Eilan smiled warmly, the expression disappearing as he studied Gereon Alexius. The man looked older than the last time Eilan had seen him. “It has been a while since I judged you and since you began to help our cause. Since that time and without any complaint, you’ve been doing good work for us.”

“You gave me a second chance. One that you felt I did not even deserve,” Alexius pointed out. “More importantly, you have done well by my son.”

“For his sake,” Eilan said firmly.

He tried and failed not to think of the dark future he’d seen or what Leliana had done. As always, Eilan recalled it all with a crystal clarity that always made it difficult to hold Alexius’ gaze. None of those wrong things had come to pass, and yet all of them had happened. “I would not have let him suffer simply for being your kin. As much as his continued recovery pleases me, I am not here to speak of Felix. I am here to discuss a change that I wish to make.”

“Very well, Inquisitor.”

“I am here to inform you that rooms have been prepared for you in one of the towers. You’ll be living alongside the other mages. A cell doesn’t seem as necessary now as it did when you were first brought here to Skyhold."

Alexius blinked. “Truly? I would have thought you'd prefer a different some of arrangement.”

“I cannot focus solely on my need for revenge. The wrongs you have done cannot be forgotten, but they cannot overshadow the needs or fate of nations. Instead, you will serve the Inquisition. In time we may even discuss your return to Tevinter should it prove beneficial to the Inquisition. I have been exchanging letters with your Archon.”

The magister shook his head. “My son will remain here, and so I will remain here. Nothing remains for me back there but memories of what I’ve lost and what I allowed myself to become. The Elder One… I was wrong. You are not a mistake.”

“I never was,” Eilan agreed.

“What was done to you, however…”

“I cannot forgive that anymore than I can forgive what became of so many of the Tranquil. But I've held you personally responsible for that for too long,” Eilan admitted. “I have hated you specifically for months now. I think at last I can see things a bit clearer. I know that you did not act alone and that I have to blame others as well.”

And Corypheus most of all for using this foolish, grieving man just as much as he had used a miserable, lyrium-addicted Samson. Just as surely as he must have used that mage Calpernia. Perhaps he had even used Erimond, but that was not entirely clear. That particular magister seemed simply to be a greedy, despicable bully who had just been looking for a cause to champion.

“Your past actions… Your hypothetical actions... They cannot blind me to your present ones. That is why you’re being given a room. That’s why I must admit that I am glad to have given you a second chance.”

“Thank you,” Alexius said, rising to his feet.

Eilan nodded to Alexius, managed another small smile for Felix and pressed on.

It seemed that a set of informal visiting hours were already underway.

Floiranne’s cell was empty, but then she had recently been shipped off to try her hand at farm work. Failing that, or succeeding, Eilan was considering allowing her to eventually become an Agent. But for the time being, he was glad to be rid of her.

Erimond and Servis had cells right next to one another. Servis, however, was on his way to becoming an Agent of the Inquisition by acting as an Informant. Erimond was going to be rotting in his cell for a long time to come. They spoke mainly in Tevene, but Eilan had learned to ignore them after Dorian had told him that mostly they gossiped and flirted. Dorian had also refused to continue translating.

Maddox was sitting just outside of Samson’s cell in what was fast-becoming his usual spot. He had not spent much time around the other mages, which only seemed sensible. Being a Tranquil and working for red templars could not have made it easy to make acquaintances or friends of any kind.

As far as Samson was concerned, Eilan did hope they could do something about the trace amount of red lyrium growing under the ex-templar’s skin. He knew the issue was being worked on by several healers they'd recruited from Redcliffe. Perhaps he would ask Anders about the matter the next time they met or spoke.

Cullen was reluctantly working with the former templar. However, until Corypheus was done away with and the Rite of Tranquility was reversed, Samson wasn’t going to be allowed outside often. It would be some time before he was allowed to go near the Inquisition’s training grounds let alone put them to any sort of use.

“I have made some progress on reversing the Rite,” Eilan said quietly once he was standing next to the cell door.

“The sooner the better,” Samson said with a shrug. “Maddox has been sleeping down here.”

“Perhaps I can have the guards move another mattress into your cell.” Eilan glanced at Maddox. “You would still be able to come and go as you please.”

“There is no where I wish to go,” Maddox murmured, but he was looking at Samson as he said it.

Samson rolled his eyes. “You might as well give him a better set-up down here, Inquisitor. He’s a bit attached.”

“I’d also like to try to see… That is, gain some insight into Maddox’s opinion on how or when we are to proceed.”

“Because?”

“There might be a way to temporarily remove the effects of his Tranquility in order to ask if—”

“There is no need, Inquisitor,” Maddox said softly. “I trust Samson’s opinion on the matter.”

“Yes, but—”

“If it is to be done, then I would wish for it to be done and over with. This is not a wound that I wish to pick at as it scabs. If you are to change me, you must do so decisively. Because it is what must happen to me, and not because you must do something with me.”

“I see.” Eilan wasn’t sure he entirely agreed or liked what Maddox had decided, but this was a decision. And perhaps he was right. What good was a moment free of Tranquility after years of being made Tranquil? Eilan had no way of telling what he himself would have picked if presented with the choice in this manner.

Perhaps if Bull or Cullen had connected to him the way Samson had continued to act as a friend of sorts to Maddox, Eilan would have agreed for the same reason. Because someone he relied on and was loyal to had suggested it was the right course of action.

“He won’t go through it alone,” Samson pointed out. “But it’s something he has to go through. Not temporarily. Permanently. Like you.”

“All right,” Eilan said, looking from one man to other. “Like me.”

*

Cullen was waiting for him at the top of the stairs. He tended to have a sixth sense about these things, and, as always, his expression was curious and slightly disapproving. He seemed to think being around Samson for long periods of time would produce some sort of detrimental effect. But then, Eilan imagined, it had to be difficult to watch someone you loved hold private conversations with people from your past who you would have preferred never to see again.

“Hello,” Eilan said, kissing Cullen’s cheek.

“Hello, my love. How is my old room mate?” Cullen asked wryly.

“I didn’t just visit him. I needed to speak to Alexius.”

“Right. I saw Felix a moment ago. He’s looking well.”

“He is. As for Samson, I… was mostly checking up on Maddox.”

“I’ve had guards bring him food, but there doesn’t seem to be much else they can do. I don’t want him forced to do anything and I know you don’t either.”

Eilan nodded, rubbing at his temples. “They can bring him a mattress. I guess… It can go in Samson’s cell? And Maddox can sleep in there at night. Only I don’t…” Eilan sighed. “I really don’t enjoy this, Cullen. It’s so hard.”

“I know, sweetheart.” Cullen gently steered Eilan towards his own quarters, escorting him in. “Would you prefer to discuss it or to be distracted from it.”

“Both?”

Cullen chuckled, kissing Eilan’s cheek. “I might have guessed. Where shall we begin?”

“I don’t like having prisoners. I recognize that it’s my own doing—”

“Nonsense. That they are where they are? That is entirely based on their own actions. It is entirely their own doing, sweetheart. Or at least in every case save for Maddox who simply has nowhere else to go. That these other wretched people continue to live is owing to you attempting to set a better example. A better person than their alleged master is shaping up to be.”

“Is that why?”

“It is,” Cullen assured him. “We’ve gotten far more information from them by keeping them whole than we might have following Leliana’s advice or, I must admit, that of my own. You hardly need the reminder, but Eilan… Killing and allowing others to die is easy. Living and letting others to do the same is difficult. Perhaps this concept can never truly sink in for worms such as Erimond and Servis, but the rest of the men and women down there understand.”

“Samson included?”

“Samson would probably prefer an end ages ago,” Cullen said with a sad sort of certainly. But then Eilan imagined there had been long spans of time when his lover might have felt the same in regards to his own self.

“I know what he’s done, but I don’t want that,” Eilan quietly replied. What he wanted was a world where people did not have to end up like Samson or Maddox in order to find a place in it. “I’d like to continue to have Samson looked after properly.”

“And he will be. Healers have been consulted, and you can even ask your… friend. He might have some advice.”

“True.”

“In the meantime, he’ll require training and a rather intense detoxification period. We’re working on some sort of strategy. We meaning Dagna and myself. Although Fenris has had some… rather unique advice on the matter. As for Maddox, that’s no trouble. I can handle the matter personally as well.”

“You don’t mind?”

“Keeping an eye on Maddox?” Cullen snorted. “Why not? At this point I can do it at the same time I’m dealing with Samson. I do wish he would desist in referring to me as Knight-Captain, but there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Eilan chuckled. “Why does he do that?”

“It amuses Samson. And I suppose… Well, I think most people do certain things to make someone they care about smile. Perhaps Maddox can’t care as much as he’d like, but I imagine Samson smiling for any genuine reason…” Cullen sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Maker, but I feel rather bad for both of them. That much I can safely blame on you. More precisely, on the way how I feel about you.”

Eilan smiled sadly.

“I think sometimes that could have been us,” Cullen said quietly, “but then I know it wouldn’t have been the same. And although I know Samson has always had the capacity to be a good man if he was ever given the proper set of circumstances, I was used to him being an evil failure. Now I wonder if he isn’t better than I have been. In some respects, his fall from grace was the best thing that could have happen to him.”

“Hardly and you know it,” Eilan insisted, pulling Cullen into a warm embrace. “He didn’t fall so much as he was shoved. As for you, Cullen… I couldn’t do… I have to be fair to the ladies so… I couldn’t have done a third of this without you.”

Cullen smiled.

“I think it’s always difficult to realize our enemies are just as human as we are. Or that they’re wrestling with something just the same as we do. And it’s hard to reconcile what we thought we understood about someone or a group of someones with what we can actually learn if we take time to get to know them.”

“Not for you. You rise so gracefully to so many challenges,” Cullen said. “You’re always trying to understand others. You’re always trying to do right by them.” Thankfully, his tone wasn’t even the least bit bitter or wistful. It was fond and oddly proud. It made Eilan blush and hold onto Cullen even tighter.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say I was very graceful,” Eilan murmured, recalling the Winter Palace and the carriage ride to it. “I suspect it is only a matter of perspective, Cullen. I’ve been in more of those misunderstood groups than you are.”

“Then it’s lucky for me that I have you. And I think,” Cullen said, kissing Eilan gently on the lips, “it’s time for that distraction.”

“I quite agree.”

*

Eventually, Eilan headed to the stables.

Blackwall was there, eying a small fire pit with his arms crossed. He sighed before turning, managing a small smile. “A bit relentless, aren’t you? All right then. Fancy a drink? I have a hankering for company.”

Eilan smiled back, feeling oddly worried although he couldn’t figure out why. Blackwall was acting as he normally did, after all.

The Warden had always been prone to morose moods and, like most of his companions, Blackwall never bothered to disguise too much of how he was feeling. But as they headed off to Herald’s Rest as the sun began to set overhead, Eilan couldn’t help feeling uneasy.

The tavern was surprisingly silent and empty. This was, Eilan firmly told himself merely a sign of the times. Most of the Inquisition’s forces were out fighting or preparing for the upcoming trek to the Arbor Wilds. Arriving to find the lively pub so still and deserted did not have to be an ill omen. Only it felt so very much like one at the moment.

They sat together on a bench near the fire. Blackwall began drinking heartily while Eilan fiddled with the slender stem of his wine glass.

“You never drink much,” Blackwall pointed out. 

“I don’t really enjoy it although I like spending time with everyone.”

“Probably for the best. Can’t have the Inquisitor making a fool of himself, can we?

Eilan ducked his head. “I just hope it doesn’t seem… That is, I don’t think I’m above drinking or spending time with the people I work with. Because I really—”

Blackwall shook his head. “‘Course not. You have your priorities, certainly, and you’re a quiet one at times, but no one here doubts you. Not your commitment. Not your fondness for those who follow you. Maker, how could anyone fail to appreciate all that you’ve done?”

“The hardest challenge is yet to come, you know. That’s what really matters.”

The Grey Warden nudged him lightly. “You’ll do it. If anyone can, it’s you.”

“Everyone says that. Everyone seems to forget how much they themselves have contributed to the cause.”

“Everyone, is it?”

“Cassandra, Dorian, Bull, Cullen… You. I wish I knew why. I feel like I must be doing something wrong.”

“Doubting is something we all do,” Blackwall said, taking another swig of his drink. “Must be obvious at the moment. It’s certainly something you do from time to time, but unlike the rest of us, you don’t care to wallow in it for long.”

“I’m not better than anyone else. Truly, I’m not.”

“I don’t believe that,” Blackwall said. “I’d like to, because I know that’s what you’d prefer. You’re not one for titles or putting on airs. You’re open and honest. You want to do well by everyone. So I would like to think you’re just like the rest of us, but I don’t. I know better."

Eilan sighed, unsure what to say about that. He didn’t want to be admired. He didn’t want to be better than anyone else unless, as Cullen had suggested, he could merely set an example. Instead sometimes he felt like he made those around feel even more hopeless. Or worse: flawed. Eilan didn’t want that. He wasn’t perfect, not even remotely so.

They drank a bit in a silence that teetered on the very brink of uncomfortable, but never entirely arrived there.

Eventually, Blackwall cleared his throat and said: “When I was a boy, there were these urchins that roamed the streets near my father’s house. One day, they found a dog. A wretched little thing. It came to them for food. They caught it, tied a rope around its neck, and strung it up.” He hesitated then turned to look at Eilan. “Do you know what I did?”

Eilan swallowed hard. His hands felt ice cold. He tucked them into his pockets to try and warm them. “I… I think that you wanted to help it but…”

“I did nothing,” Blackwall agreed, his face and tone full of remorse. “It was crying. I saw the kicking legs, the neck straining and twisting, and I turned around. Went inside. And closed the door. I could have told my father, or alerted someone. I didn’t. I just pretended it wasn’t happening.”

“You said you were just a boy.”

Blackwall’s expression grew slightly hostile. “I was old enough to know the dog was suffering, and that it was wrong. I may as well have tied the noose myself. We… could… make the world better. It’s just easier to shut our eyes.”

“Nothing worth doing is easy.”

Blackwall huffed as he laughed. “How can you say that me?” he asked sadly.

“Because you’re my friend. Because it’s the truth.”

Blackwall sighed, lightly clasping Eilan’s shoulder for one brief instant with one warm hand. “Look at you. Look at all you’ve been through. All you’ve done. You would have done the right thing. We’re lucky there are people like you in the world.” He looked forward, ahead of them and towards the fireplace. “There’s always some dog out there, some fucking mongrel who doesn’t know how to stay away.”

“Don’t be so hard on that dog then. Or yourself,” Eilan said quietly.

Blackwall glanced at him. “How do you mean?”

“Maybe you couldn’t save that dog as a boy, maybe you couldn’t have saved anyone back then, but that cowardly action… Blackwall, that can’t define you forever. One terrible, tragic mistake is just that. A mistake. Nothing more. You can’t allow all that scared you back then to keep you from being brave now. You can’t allow failure, despair, or fear to keep you from doing the right thing.”

“The right thing,” Blackwall mused, sounding as if he honestly wasn’t sure he’d ever done anything right in his life.

“You have done many great things. I have seen it with my own eyes when you’ve fought at my side. You are so much more than that boy who turned around and went inside, indifferent to someone else’s suffering. You’re not that foolish young man who turned down a chance to become a Chevalier because he felt he could be more on his own. You’re a man who serves a cause far larger than himself. One who understands honor and duty and sacrifice. You’re a Grey Warden. You’re Blackwall.”

Blackwall eyed him sadly and rather strangely.

“What’s wrong?”

“You’re a hard man to follow,” Blackwall said thickly. “The best I’ve served, of course, but Maker’s Breath… You certainly don’t make it easy, do you?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You were right. Nothing worth doing is simple. No one worth following is either. I forget what I am sometimes. I forget,” Blackwall repeated quietly. “But you always remember. And you are remarkable. You always know what to say.”

“I don’t feel like I do,” Eilan admitted. At the moment, he felt as if he knew absolutely nothing and understood even less.

“In time perhaps,” the Warden said rising to his feet. “I ought to go back before I drink anymore, and you should do the same.”

“I will. In a moment, but…”

Blackwall looked down at him.

Eilan looked up worriedly. “What I said really helped you?”

“More than you can possibly know.”

Eilan laughed bitterly. “That wouldn’t be very hard all things considered. I wish you’d explain what I’ve done or what we’ve been discussing here.”

“Not tonight,” Blackwall said. “Not tomorrow. I’m not sure I could explain, but... Thank you, Inq-- No. Thank you, Eilan. I’m grateful to you. In your debt, as it were. I suspect I always will be.”

Eilan waited until Blackwall was gone before wiping at his face. He didn’t know why he suddenly felt so sad only that he did.

The tavern remained fairly quiet. Maryden was playing a gentle tune from the corner of the room, but still very few patrons were frequenting the place.

Eilan sipped his wine, wishing he’d gone with beer instead. He felt too sober and not at all like the sort of leader Blackwall or any of the others deserved let alone required.

And just when he was beginning to feel absolutely, utterly miserable, two large flagons of ale were set down in front of him.

“Shit, where is everyone?” Bull asked, sitting on the empty bench and next to Eilan. “It’s like a fucking ghost town in here. Also… Who said you could drink alone? Better not have been Cullen.”

“It wasn’t, and Blackwall just left,” Eilan said quietly. “But I’m fine.”

“Funny how you don’t look it. Drink up.”

Eilan took a few sips before leaning against Bull’s larger frame. “I don’t really like drinking spirits of any kind,” he decided. “I’m firmly against it, in fact.”

“Aw, kadan,” Bull murmured, ruffling Eilan’s hair. “You’re not gonna want to hear this but that’s probably just the booze talking.”

“I’m sure it is,” Eilan replied. “People tell such terrible tales when they’re in their cups.”

Bull grunted. “Wanna talk about it?”

Eilan shook his head. “Not just yet, but we will.”

“Good. Wanna go home?”

“I… That might be best.”

“All right,” Bull got up, tugging Eilan along with him. He led Eilan out of the empty tavern and back towards the keep. “Your Vint came back, by the way. He’s off, uh… getting to know some Grey Warden if you know what I mean.”

“Felix?”

Bull chuckled. “Nah, some other guy. Didn’t get a name. I was too busy looking for you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. I’m your bodyguard, remember? Can’t guard nobody if I can’t find your… body… Which…” Bull rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, that sounds way more sinister than I meant for it to.”

Eilan laughed, hugging Bull’s arm gently with both of his own. “I love you,” he said. “Thank you.”

“And no thank you,” Bull replied with a frown. “Fuck, you’re cold.”

“Sorry,” Eilan murmured, but he didn’t let go.

“Eh, something tells me you’ll warm me up soon.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, BakaKnight for looking this over and providing suggestions. It was high time Eilan checked on his prisoners and beyond time for Blackwall to have his truly depressing dog talk. I think I wasn't looking forward to either part though so it took awhile.
> 
> Despite not having a beta and not having as much momentum as I did in the beginning, updates will definitely continue. And they will still be on the slow side. If you want to keep track of fic updates or DA thoughts, follow my [twitter](https://twitter.com/cruelestmonth6) (@cruelestmonth6) or [tumblr](http://cruelestmonth.tumblr.com/) (cruelestmonth.tumblr.com).


	44. Chapter 44

*

The next morning, Eilan made his rounds again. A bit slowly not so much because he’d had drinks the night before as he felt a little bogged down by his conversation with Blackwall. He hadn’t been very helpful. He put off going to the stables at first. 

When Eilan finally headed to the library, Dorian was in his usual spot. He seemed particularly smug when he glanced up from the book he was reading.

“I…hesitate to ask but… did you have a good night?”

“A good day, afternoon, and evening,” Dorian agreed. “Thank you for allowing me to visit with Mae.”

“Don’t thank me. It didn’t effect anything in terms of Inquisition business and I know you miss home. More to the point, she’s a friend.”

“I miss aspects of home. It’s all right that you don’t understand exactly what that’s like. I don’t see how you would.”

Eilan nodded then winced.

“I’m hardly going to catch the next boat home.”

“It’s not that.”

“Ah. Oh dear.”

“Hm?”

Dorian marked his spot in the book, setting it down and moving over to Eilan. “You were drinking last night?”

“Only a little.”

“Here,” Dorian offered, placing fingers against Eilan’s temples. He used some sort of soothing magic to dull what the headache Eilan had been trying to ignore. “Now. Seeing as we two are friends, you ought to share your troubles with me.”

“Blackwall wanted to have a talk. Only it was… He was really out of sorts. I’m not sure anything I said helped.”

“Why do you think it didn’t?”

“He was still upset when he left the tavern.”

Dorian made a face before drawing Eilan closer. “I doubt what you did made matters worse. We’re all of us struggling against the weight of private matters. Yourself included, Eilan.” 

“Yes, but I have…. I have Bull and Cullen. Blackwall doesn’t have anyone. Neither do you.”

“And yet I seem to make it through every day unscathed,” Dorian wryly observed. “My dear, relationships are not all there is to life. I am certain I’ll find one in time, but I have you. I have Mae. I have Cullen. I have B— Well, never mind who else. I have a decent number of other acquaintances as well. I am hardly sitting around sighing over being left to fend for myself from time to time. Can we agree that this is true?”

“We can,” Eilan said, making no effort to sound anything less than entirely relieved.

“And in spite of having Bull and Cullen, you’ll find that a great deal of what you’re going through is something you have to sort out for yourself. The same can me said for Blackwall or for myself.”

Eilan nodded, hugging Dorian briefly before moving away. “Oh. But last night… Bull said that you found someone.”

“Kaffas,” Dorian muttered. “Darling, we are the best of friends, but some things are not to shared. You know that, yes?”

“Well, I hardly need details, but… Dorian, you don’t have to feel uncomfortable about it.”

“It being the sex?” Dorian smirked. “I’m not very uncomfortable about that part. Only... sharing any of the details with you seems a bit sordid. I will say that Mae made an excellent point about Grey Wardens and their stamina, but let’s leave it at that.”

“Sordid? Despite my having two partners?”

“I’ve never gotten much in the way of details. Outside of how much you care about them.”

“Um. I…” Eilan blushed.

“Oh, don’t do so now, you ridiculous boy.” Dorian shook his head. “There is something decidedly innocent about you. Something I wouldn’t change or ruin for the world. I don’t think that would change even if you were sleeping with the King of Ferelden and Empress of Orlais.”

“I shouldn’t care to do that.”

“Probably for the best. Now. I think you ought to find Blackwall. I would be glad to come with if you feel the need for some back-up.”

“Only if you’ll be nice.”

“I’ll be civil. That’s all I can promise.”

They headed down the stairs and outside. 

Hawke was using the training grounds with what must have been a Grey Warden. Although Eilan hoped none of the recruits were watching because both of them were hardly keeping things light and easy. 

Varric and Fenris were watching, but Fenris stiffened and quickly excused himself.

“I’d call that a very under-handed move,” Hawke said, smiling and looking fond. 

“You’re still just as bad as ever. Relying entirely on magic.”

“And you seem to still be overcompensating for something.”

The Grey Warden huffed, swinging his rather large onyx sword back into scabbard.

“He really isn’t,” Dorian muttered. He chuckled when Eilan gave him a scolding look.

“Inquisitor!” Hawke called out. “Don’t suppose you want to teach this fellow some manners.”

“Or we could just settle for introductions,” Varric suggested. “Inquisitor Eilan Trevelyan, this is Carver Hawke.”

The Grey Warden strode forward, shaking Eilan’s hand as soon as it was offered. “More exciting for me than for you,” he said, seeming vaguely amused. “Dorian.”

“Carver.”

Ah, well then. Eilan couldn’t entirely blame Dorian at all. Carver was tall and handsome. Thick black hair, bright blue eyes, and a small scar around his right eye. 

“It’s very nice to meet you,” Eilan said. 

“If you like,” Carver allowed. “Ought to have been sooner though. So thank you. For what you did for the Order, I mean.”

“It had to be done,” Eilan insisted. “It’s wrong to ask people to do so much and then give them so little.”

“True. Considering what a mess was made of things… Well, I guess heroes have to be forgiving. Is it a lot harder than it looks?”

“Much,” Eilan admitted, returning Carver’s smile. 

There was something a bit wistful about the other man’s gesture, and standing closer to him, it was easier to see his eyes were slightly red and underneath them were small black circles. Lack of sleep then? Bad dreams? Eilan couldn’t recall seeing such things on Blackwall.

“I’m sure you’d know,” Eilan added.

“Not as much as some,” Carver said with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

“Well, I’m beat. And in need of a drink. And apparently going to have to hunt down my man,” Hawke said with a sigh. “Fast bastard, isn’t he?”

“He seems to be.”

“You take care, Inquisitor. Although we ought to talk. And soon.”

“We will,” Eilan agreed eagerly even though he suspected he already knew the subject Hawke wished to broach. Or at least the person she wished to learn more about. 

“Don’t take it personally,” Carver said as Hawke and Varric left. “Fenris, I mean. We’re all of us moody Comes from living in Kirkwall. Or with my sister. Or both.”

“Being an only child has its distinct advantages,” Dorian cheerfully observed.

Eilan shrugged. “Perhaps. It must make things strange, Carver. Your sister using your last name the way she does.”

“You’ve no idea. You’ve got siblings?”

“Yes and no. I don’t know if they’d consider me to be their brother.”

“Haven’t seen them lately?”

“Not… since before,” Eilan said, trying to make an effort not to rub his forehead.

“Perhaps it’s for the best,” Carver replied. “Family doesn’t always do what it should. It’s more of a disappointment than anything else, really. But you make other connections if you can get away from them. I’m sure you’ve done that.”

“I have. It sounds as if you have as well.”

“To some degree and when my sister’s not meddling. Now that I’m done being overprotected, I’d like to do my part to assist the Inquisition and my fellow Wardens. Along those lines, thank you for sparing Stroud.”

“I don’t like leaving people behind.”

“Fair enough. I was actually hoping to meet this Warden Blackwall of yours. Got a bit sidetracked last night,” Carver said, rubbing at the back of his neck. 

“Why were you seeking him out?” Dorian asked, looking nonplussed. “Are you playing Heroes of Thedas Bingo?”

Carver chuckled. “Perhaps. Or perhaps I’m just interested in the Inquisitor’s motley crew. I've also heard you’ve got a 'nice Qunari.'”

“This isn’t a carnival,” Dorian said with a frown. “And staring is generally considered a bit rude even when it involves a Qunari.”

It was odd watching Dorian be a bit protective of Bull, but then the two of them were friends. Of a sort. Neither one seemed entirely willing to admit as much, however.

Carver didn’t seem bothered by it. “Of course not. For the time being, I’d just like to meet one of the few Wardens strong enough to completely resist the Calling. With help, I’m sure. No shame in that.”

“Not enough help,” Eilan said with a sigh.

“Oh?” Carver asked, tilting his head slightly. Who’s said?”

“Well, no one.”

“Then assume they’re right and there’s no real problem,” Carver suggested. “Your doubts aren’t as likely to effect them as you.”

“I… Thank you.”

“Just something based on my own experiences,” Carver said. “Someone ought to learn from my mistakes. I don’t always seem to.”

*

As much as it would have been nice to introduce Carver to Blackwall, Eilan had insisted first and foremost on speaking to his companion privately. The stables and the barn were decidedly empty. After some searching, Eilan found a small piece of parchment propped up by Blackwall’s unfinished griffin.

_Inquisitor,_

_You’re been a friend and an inspiration. You’ve given me the wisdom to know right from wrong, and, more importantly, the courage to uphold the former._

_It’s been my honor to serve you._

Eilan read the letter over several times, unable to decide what to make of it. The words seemed entirely genuine, but why would Blackwall have left this for him? He felt numb and confused. 

As he headed out of the barn, a scout approached him with word from Leliana. Blackwall was gone.

“Go on,” Eilan managed. “Leliana knows where he is, doesn’t she? She knows everything.” 

“She doesn’t know everything. Yet.”

“Any chance that you’re going to tell me something?” 

The scout handed over a rather crumpled piece of paper. “Sister Leliana had us search the Warden’s quarters. Not much to find. Except this. It was missing from last week’s report. I don’t know what Blackwall’s interest in this particular matter is, but it could be a good place to start.”

Eilan read the paragraph over, unsure as to what it all added up to. However, it ended with the mention of an execution and a location. Val Royeaux.

“Thank you. You’re dismissed,” Eilan replied. He hurried away, deciding he’d speak to his advisors before deciding who he’d bring with him.

As luck would have it, they were all in the war room. Cullen was ruminating over various markers on the table. Leliana was poring over reports along with Josephine.

“I’m going to have to go to Orlais.”

“Is there time?” Cullen asked, without glancing up. “I mean, of course you must go but…”

“It’ll have to beforehand. I can’t afford these distractions or for others to learn he just left. We need everyone to remain focused and unified.”

“And yet you are going because he is your friend,” Josephine said. She was difficult to read at that particular moment. She hadn’t been very close to Blackwall as far as Eilan had seen although the Warden had brought her flowers on several occasions. 

“He is,” Eilan agreed. “But he is also a part of this Inquisition. If we don’t have time to look after the people who fight for us, what are we even fighting for?”

“Who will you take?”

“Bull, Cullen, Cassandra, Vivienne, and Varric. Solas is needed here. I’ll see if Dorian can assist him.” 

Vivienne wouldn’t have agreed so bringing her with seemed the wiser course of action. Eilan was tempted to write to Maevaris and Anders, but he couldn’t have them at Skyhold when he wasn’t there to keep an eye on how they were treated.

“You may as well take Sera,” Cullen said with a sigh. “I wouldn’t leave her here.”

“Not with an ancient mirror that could be broken,” Leliana agreed. “She isn’t aware of it, really, but she’s complained quite loudly about ‘elfy things.’”

“Can you tell me anything else about this Cyril Mornay?”

“Only what was in the report,” Leliana said. “The Callier Massacre is well-known. A tragic event that proved to be a significant loss for Celene. Lord Callier was a staunch ally and a remarkable general.”

“What of this Thom  
Rainier?”

“Nothing that would help us. Blackwall is from Markham. As a Grey Warden, he would have traveled quite a bit and met some men of ill repute. That goes without saying, but that does not entirely explain his actions or his concern. I am not sure how he would have encountered either one of these men.”

“Whatever it is, I want to hear it from Blackwall,” Eilan admitted. “We’ll return as swiftly as we can.”

“We can set off in the morning. It’s too late to leave by the afternoon and the evening’s not a good time for it,” Cullen said, moving away from the table and over to Eilan. “Let’s get ready for the trip then.”

Leliana smiled thinly. As did Josephine. But their normal commentary did not seem to be forthcoming. The situation was relatively serious, and whatever Leliana suspected… Well, it would have to keep. 

Rather then heading for Eilan’s quarters, Cullen lightly led Eilan towards his tower. 

“We ought to pack.”

“We ought to talk first. And you ought to eat something.” Cullen issued instructions to the soldiers stationed in front of one of the man sets of doors leading into his office. Then he ushered Eilan inside.

They sat down on a couch near Cullen’s bookshelf. Eilan leaned against Cullen, sighing. “Something is always going wrong.”

“So it would appear. What are you clutching at, sweetheart?” Cullen asked.

Eilan reluctantly unclenched his hand, holding the papers out.

Cullen took them, glancing over the report before reading Blackwall’s letter.  
He sighed when he looked up, putting a hand over Eilan’s cheek. “You know this isn’t your fault. Whatever this is or proves to be… It isn’t your doing.”

“He left because of what I said.”

“You’re looking it as if you drove him away, but I don’t think that’s what happened.”

“What do you think?”

“Your words allowed him to go. As you said, it’s better to hear what this all about from Blackwall.”

“I wish he’d just told me last night.”  
“That’s because you spend so much time with Bull. He’s rather straightforward. When it comes to you, I mean.”

“It is one of his most endearing traits,” Eilan admitted.

“Not all of us find it so easy to confront who we are. Let alone share the miserable, sordid details.”

“Wouldn’t it be better though? Then you don’t have to go through it alone?”

“Unless it’s something…rather terrible.”

“You could tell me anything.”

“I would tell you anything,” Cullen said. “I can’t keep secrets from you, and… Well, you’re rather good at changing my mind. I need that. Some opinions and thoughts aren’t worth holding onto.”

“What do you suppose Bull needs me for?”

“Hm. One or two things come to mind.”

Eilan chuckled. “I’m serious.”

“As was I. Let’s get you packed, and then I’ll find someone to put in charge of the forces. You can’t always bring me with you.”

“I know,” Eilan said sadly. “But,” he added, tone brightening slightly, “I can bring you with me sometimes. Because you’re mine, and because it’s my prerogative as Inquisitor.”

“Abusing your power at long last then?” Cullen asked, kissing Eilan before pulling him to his feet. “Dorian’s rubbing off on you, I see.”

“It was bound to happen sometime.”

“Yes, it rather was.”

*

The whole trip to Orlais was full of bad weather. Thick, heavy dark clouds brought rain, thunder, and lightning. 

Eilan’s cloak clung to his skin as they approached the plaza and a set of wooden gallows. A large crowd stood in the pouring rain, watching a crumpled, dejected man sink to his knees as his crime was announced by a masker soldier. Mornay had been party to the murder of Callier, his wife, his four children, and those in his employ. Next came Cyril Mornay’s sentence: to be hanged from the neck until he is dead.

The man’s eyes were sunken, surrounded by dark circles. His face was scarred, and he shook his weary head when asked to say something in his own defense.

“You’d almost think he’d wanted to say something,” Cullen murmured. “Or that Blackwall would show up and speak on his behalf.”

“Yes, but who is this man to Blackwall?” Dorian asked. “A brother? A friend?”

“Gotta have more patience,” Bull said. “Orlesians love to draw this shit out, and our guy’s bound to show up soon.”

A masked executioner tugged Mornay to his feet, placing the rope around his neck. 

“Proceed,” the soldier said.

“Stop!”

Eilan turned along with the rest of the crowd to where Blackwall was climbing the wooden stairs leading up to the convicted man.

“A Grey Warden,” the soldier pointed out, and the crowd gasped.

“This man is innocent of the crimes laid before him. Orders were given, and he followed them like any good soldier. He should not die for that mistake!”

“Then find me the man who gave the order.”

“Shit,” Bull muttered. He set a hand on Eilan’s shoulder.

Eilan glanced up.

“Kinda hoped I’d be wrong,” Bull murmured. “You’re… Not going to like this part, kadan.”

“I don’t understand.”

The Grey Warden had been staring at the soldier. Slowly, he looked away and out towards the crowd.

“Blackwall!” Eilan called out.

He sighed heavily, debating and then making his decision. When he spoke he struggled to sound stoic, but here and there his voice cracked. “No. I am not Blackwall. I never was Blackwall. Warden Blackwall is dead, and has been for years.”

Eilan froze, blinking a bit against the endless rain when Bull gently squeezed his shoulder.

“I assumed his name to hide, like a coward, from who I really am.”

“You,” Mornay said, “after all this time…”

“It’s over. I’m done hiding. I gave the order. The crime is mine. I am Thom Rainier.” He was staring out at the crowd, but he focused on Eilan. 

The masked soldier approached from one side, the executioner from the other. Eilan could finally see the other man’s mask. It was a black, mummified skull with hints of red around the teeth, nose, and eyes. 

“He can’t go with them,” Eilan said. He meant to sound sure of himself or even slightly confident. Instead, his voice cracked as badly as Blackwall’s making him sound young and overwhelmed. “He can’t.”

But Blackwall—Thom Rainier—went with them willingly. He seemed grim, but perhaps slightly relieved. Once he was down the wooden stairs, he looked down, completely ignoring everyone.

The crowd had moved past horrified to bored, dissipating almost immediately. It was hard to tell what was being decided in regards to Mornay, but clearly his execution wasn’t forthcoming.

“He will have to for the time being,” Cullen gently pointed out. “We cannot shield him from this without causing irreparable damage to our alliances.”

“Then I won’t leave him there.” Eilan moved away from his companions, all but running up to the gallows.

“Can you believe it?” the masked baliff asked. “Thom Rainier himself. It’s a damned mess, but believe you me, it’ll be sorted out quick. Lots of people can’t wait to see that man swing.”

“Oh yes,” Dorian said, joining them. “Let’s have no tact whatsoever. Where did they take the prisoner?”

“In the jail off the marketplace. If you’ve goodbyes to say, say them now.”

“Goodbye,” Dorian curtly informed the guard. He took Eilan’s arm and led him back down the stairs. “You really ought to refrain from talking to strangers.”

Eilan offered up a miserable laugh. “Can I avoid it?”

“With my help, all things are possible,” Dorian insisted. “We’ll have Cullen bark at a few people in your stead.”

*

The matter was negotiated in relatively short order. Eilan hardly paid much attention to it. He was too busy wondering how he ought to feel. How much of it was a lie then? 

Had there ever been a tourney with a chevalier? That much seemed likely. After all, chevalier could be found throughout Orlais.

Had Thom Rainier become a Grey Warden while hiding somewhere? It was possible, but the false Calling hadn’t really troubled him in the least. 

Had he killed Blackwall? That seemed unlikely if he was willing to go the gallows to save a soldier under his command. But then if a man could order the death of four children…

Normally he might have turned to Cullen or Bull, but he had a feeling neither one of them saw the point in a conversation with Thom Rainier. 

How Dorian felt was impossible to say, but he seemed willing to support whatever Eilan was planning to do. 

“Fucked-up shit,” Varric had said once he found out.

Telling Sera had been difficult. She’d been so hurt. Only she hadn’t said anything, just vanished as quickly as she could. No doubt they’d find her later in the tavern of the inn where they were staying. 

Dorian had been charged with explaining what had happened to Vivienne. Eilan wasn’t sure what her reaction had been, and, in all honesty, he didn’t want to find out.

When it came time to go down to the cells, Bull followed him part of the way.

“You need to do this for you,” Bull said after awhile. “I get that. And Cullen wouldn’t be jumping through hoops if he didn’t.” 

“He’s my friend. I…”

“Kadan, you don’t have to justify your feelings right now,” Bull said gently, brushing large fingers over Eilan’s cheek. “Talk to him as long as you can. Then come back out.”

The cells were empty and the floor seemed slightly misty. The whole place seemed cold and smelled more than a little dank.

When he finally arrived at Blackwall’s cell, Eilan fidgeted slightly before staring at his friend. 

Blackwall was still staring down, leaning forward on a stone bench. 

They both stayed silent for a long time. Eilan kept wishing he could think of questions rather than comforting words until Blackwall finally spoke.

“I didn’t take Blackwall’s life. I traded his death. He wanted me for the Wardens, but there was an ambush. Darkspawn. He was killed. I took his name to stop the world from losing a good man.”

“I believe you.”

“But a good man,” Blackwall continued, “the man _he_ was, wouldn’t have let another die in his place.” 

“You saved that man today.”

“That changes very little. I am not a good man.”

“So what you’ve been accused of… Did you really do those things?”

Blackwall glanced up slightly, reluctantly looking up at Eilan. “Yes, I did. It’s all true. It’s time we all got a good look at who I really am.”

“A name doesn’t—”

“Don’t you understand?” Blackwall got to his feet, pacing and eventually slamming the palms of his hands against the bars of his cell. “I gave the order to kill Lord Callier, and I lied to my men about what they were doing!” He rattled the bars again as he continued. “When it came to light, I ran. Those men, my men, paid for my treason while I was pretending to be a better man!”

“Orders don’t have to be obeyed,” Eilan snapped. “Don’t you dare tell me otherwise. Templars following orders took away everything I had. I don’t know if they were good men or bad men. What does it even matter? They still branded me. Do you think I care if they regretted it during or after? Do you think that changes what they did?”  
“I am not free of guilt. Or sin.”

“No, you’re not, but those men of yours killed children. Whether you misled them or not, they had brains in their heads. They had hearts in their chests. Some of them even had children of their own. And still they chose. They chose, and wanted to blame it all on you.” 

“If they blame me it is with just cause. I am a murderer. I am a traitor. I am a monster.”

“So are many Grey Wardens,” Eilan pointed out. “I cannot excuse what you’ve done or your responsibility, but I cannot join you in pretending you are the only man in all of Thedas who has ever behaved abominably. And I very much doubt a monster would regret his actions. He wouldn’t have told me about the dog he didn’t save. He wouldn’t have left me a letter.” 

Blackwall retreated further into his cell. “That’s because I lied to you. Took advantage of your kindness. You’re a good person. You deserved the truth. An explanation. Some gratitude.”

“Would a monster have given himself up?” Eilan asked. “Somewhere along the line you stopped pretending.”

Blackwall shook his head, but he answered all of Eilan’s questions about Blackwall, Thom Rainier, and the Callier Massacre. There was no denying the situation was horrible and overwhelming... And yet Eilan still felt certain he couldn't leave the man to rot. He didn't even want to. 

Feeling a bit out of sorts, Eilan eventually (and temporarily) left Blackwall behind. He headed back upstairs to where Cullen was waiting for him. 

“I have Leliana’s report on Thom Rainier,” Cullen said. "Are you well?"

“Outside,” Eilan insisted, all but running out of the jail. Once the door closed behind him, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath of fresh air. He continued breathing in and out as Cullen gently brushed a hand over his back. “Right. Give me an overview.”

“After I give you some time,” Cullen insisted. “Let’s find a café. You ought to eat something.” 

“I can’t leave him here, Cullen, I can’t.”

“I know," Cullen replied. His opinion on the matter wasn't entirely clear, but his tone was warm and gentle. "I would never ask you to, sweetheart, and I can assure you that they won’t hang him while we’re gone. For one thing, no one wishes to make an enemy of the Inquisition. For another, Bull and Dorian are still inside.”

Cullen refused to summarize until well after they were seated and Eilan had ordered. Then he sighed, setting the papers down and steepling his fingers against the side of the table. “Thom Rainier was once a respected captain in the Imperial Orlesian Army. Before the Civil War, he was turned, persuaded to assassinate one of Celene’s biggest supporters. He led a group of fiercely loyal men on this mission, and told them nothing of it. His men took the fall for him. A few lucky ones, like Mornay, managed to escape.”

“His men were lied to, I understand that,” Eilan said quietly, “but they did deplorable things. Why should they have been an exception?”

“When you’re a leader, your orders and your intentions should serve a cause greater than your own ambitions. If the men and women who follow you are loyal, you should reward that. You shouldn’t use them.”

“Men and women should not follow orders like the one he gave.”

“No,” Cullen said quietly. “No, they should not, but they do.”

Eilan stared down at the table in-between them until his food arrived. 

“Thom Rainier bears the brunt of the guilt, and his men share in it. But you do not. So don’t blame yourself,” Cullen said. “We all made the same mistake.” He sighed heavily. “The question is what do we do now?”

Eilan shook his head. He didn’t know what was best for the Inquisition, but he had no desire to see the man die. 

“Black… Rainier has accepted his fate. But you don’t have to. We have resources. If he’s released to us, you may pass judgment on him yourself.”

Eilan glanced up. “If it were up to you, what would happen?”

Cullen scowled, features darkening as he reflected on the situation. “What he did to the men under his command was unacceptable. He betrayed their trust, betrayed ours. I despise him for it. And yet… He fought as a Warden. Joined the Inquisition. Gave his blood for our cause. And the moment he shakes off his past, he turns around and owns up to it. Why?”

“Some part of you is impressed by what he did, isn’t it?”

“Saving Mornay the way he did took courage, I’ll give him that. But for all he did wrong… He was never unkind to you. He never harmed you or allowed much harm to befall you. And you still care for him. You still think of him as Blackwall, as a friend. Whatever you decide to do, I will support you. But I will not tell you what you ought to decide, Eilan. It wouldn't be right let alone helpful.”

Eilan sighed heavily. “Have Blackwall released to us.”

Cullen leaned forward, setting a hand over Eilan’s. “We must move quickly then. We can explore our options back at Skyhold.”

Eilan nodded stiffly. “Thank you. For what you said.”

“Please don’t,” Cullen insisted. “My love, I want to make your life easier not harder. I want to see you happy, and I know that while it won’t change what you do, my opinion matters. I’m hardly going to try and crush you with the weight of it.”

“Then let me appreciate that much, at least. Please.”

“Very well, but I would have said it anyway. I love you as you are and how you are not in spite of it.”

“I know,” Eilan said with a small, teasing smile. “It’s one of your many endearing traits.”

“Well,” Cullen said, looking slightly sheepish. “I do what I can.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, Bakaknight, for reading this over!
> 
> There are about 6-10 chapters left of this main fic according to my current outline. I would like to write more in the 'verse, but I'm rapidly reaching the point of being burnt out by it. I'm going to blame it mainly on have a crazy set of months and just general loss of momentum.


	45. Chapter 45

*

Negotiations never proceeded as quickly as Eilan might have liked. Having Blackwall brought back to Skyhold was no exception. Oh, he could have demanded more or sought a speedier resolution, but it meant drawing more attention to the matter.  
Explaining the situation to the others had been bad enough.

Instead, it seemed clear that it was high time they marched on the Arbor Wilds. Once at the Forward Camp, both Solas and Morrigan made it clear that Corypheus was heading to (and searching for) a Temple of Mythal. 

As they left, a scout bowed slightly. “Andraste guide you, Inquisitor.” 

Morrigan smirked slightly. “I wonder: is it Andraste your soldiers invoke during battle, or does a more immediate name come to their lips?”

“Another way to let people down if I falter,” Eilan said coldly. “Thank you for the reminder.” 

They dealt with plenty of Venatori and Red Templars. Eilan wasn’t sure what had become of them without Samson’s leadership, but they seemed very disorganized if just as dangerous as before. Regardless, they were all easily bested.

The closer they got to the Temple, the more their focused turned to Mythal.

Solas, who had been doing the bulk of the explaining, was constantly being interrupted by Morrigan. Eilan wasn’t sure what to do about it, but as he looked around, it was clear his companions were displeased. Cassandra seemed rather displeased to have an addition member added to their group, and had been even less friendly to Morrigan than she had been to Varric. Speaking of, Varric was humming under his breath and keeping his gaze trained on Bianca. Bull snorted every now and then, looking tense. Dorian was too busy dealing with mud and sneezing to care. 

At any rate, Mythal was quite interesting. Her many titles and designations were fascinating. Goddess of love, patron of motherhood and justice, Protector, All-Mother… No wonder then that the Dalish had no interest in the Maker who seemed to be a stern father and nothing more. 

Eilan also wondered why that was all he seemed to be able to take away from what the Chantry had taught him. Surely, the Chant of Light was not so simple or the Maker so one-dimensional. If other gods in other pantheons were more complex then He had to be as multi-faceted as His creations. Even so, what little religion Eilan had found comforting as a boy left him cold now as a man and a mage. Too much had been done to him in the Maker’s name.

His thoughts, however, caused him to completely miss what was happening behind him until Dorian grabbed his arm.

“Eilan, you might want to… Kaffas.”

There was a loud clang. When Eilan turned, Bull’s maul was in the ground a significant distance from Morrigan but also blocking her path. 

“Hey so, enough,” Bull said. “I tried to let this slide. Your kid is cute and you’re new here. But the whole way to this stupid place you’ve tried to one-up Solas with your elf knowledge. I only got so many nerves, witch.”

“Bull,” Eilan murmured.

“She is a witch,” Bull insisted. “I can call her that. And she’s fucking annoying.”

Morrigan seemed amused more than put-out. “You would not be the first to feel that way.”

“There’s a surprise,” Dorian muttered. “Bull isn’t entirely wrong. We hardly need someone saying the exact same thing as Solas would when Solas is here with us.”

“Right,” Bull agreed. “So stop. Stop asking questions you know the answer to and answering the questions you haven’t been asked. Or I’ll do something about it.”

“Should I be intimidated?”

“I don’t require that, no. This? Is just a friendly warning.”

“There isn’t much that is friendly about it.”

“Picked up on that. Guess you must be smart.”

“We need to keep moving,” Eilan said, having no interest in picking a side in the argument. Although privately, he was a bit tired of what felt like a constant codex recitation on Morrigan’s part. 

He moved ahead. Solas, Cassandra, and Varric were right behind him. The others were a bit slower, but he imagined they would be fine.

“I found that display most unnecessary,” Solas said quietly, but he looked and sounded vaguely amused.

“If it results in less noise and more accomplishments, I’m all for it,” Cassandra pointed out.

*

When they finally entered, the Temple was beautiful. Full of trees and statues. And, well, corpses. Recently deceased seeing as they were Venatori and Red Templars.

Eilan crept to the edge of a balcony. Below, was a bridge. 

In front of it, Red Templars, one Behemoth, and a trio of mages were being confronted by hooded mages. Behind them stood Corypheus.

“They still think to fight us, master,” said one of the templars. 

The Behemoth strode forward, flinging an elf out of the way.

Corypheus moved ahead. “These are but remnants. They will not keep us from the Well of Sorrows.”

“Well of Sorrows?” Eilan asked.

Morrigan frowned.

The swirling runes on the bridge’s pillars pulsed light blue as Corypheus stared at the elves. “Be honored. Witness death at the hands of a new God!”

Magic poured from the pillars, but it was not enough to stop him. He moved forward, grabbing at one of the mages. And then, miraculously, Corypheus seemed to melt and the burst. Only when the blast cleared, everyone else was dead and there was no sign of the corrupted magister’s body. 

On the other side of the bridge, Corypheus’ forces headed further into the Temple without so much as a backwards glance.

There was a sickening, crackling sound behind them as one of the dead Grey Warden mage’s rose, his mouth open in a silent scream. The body sunk back down oozing black liquid, dissolving until something else began to emerge. Its hands was clawed, skeletal… Corypheus.

“It cannot be,” Morrigan said.

“Across the bridge! Now!”

No one needed much more encouragement than that. Only, Eilan couldn’t stop looking at the creature rising to its feet. It was covered in black and glowing bright red. It screeched, sounding just like the Archdemon had, and then the corrupted dragon was there, soaring overhead.

Eilan stopped looking and ran after the others.  
They managed to close the giant mosaic-covered doors just before it could breathe red fire over them. A golden light formed a seal and a barrier between them and the Archdemon outside. 

“Shit, kadan. How many times do we have to kill this guy?” Bull asked. 

“More than we’d like,” Eilan said with a sigh.

“ _We_ still haven’t killed him once. Not all of us. I have though. With Hawke,” Varric pointed out. He smirked as nearly everyone else glared at him. “I’m not comparing. Just stating facts.”

“Stick to your stories,” Dorian suggested.

Cassandra scowled. “It hardly matters if you did kill Corypheus. You did not succeed in finishing the job, and now we are left to clean another one of your messes.”

“Yeah,” Varric muttered. “Thanks for that.”

“Let’s not squabble,” Eilan mildly insisted. “After what just happened, it’s clear that we’re not as close to dealing with Corypheus in as final a way as we would like to be. Perhaps this Well of Sorrows will bring us one step closer to being on an equal playing field.” 

“Yes, about that,” Cassandra said, looking to Morrigan. “You said Corypheus wanted an eluvian. Which is right?”

Morrigan ran a hand through her hair. “I… am uncertain of what he referred to.”

“So it’s possible he’s here for two artifacts,” Eilan mused. “Or does Eluvian translate into Well of Sorrows?”

“No,” Solas said gently. “It does not. The eluvian is not what Corypheus seeks.”

Eilan frowned, glancing at Morrigan.

“Yes, I was wrong,” she said unhappily. “Does that please you?”

“Yeah, a bit,” Bull admitted.

“There’s a first time for everything,” Dorian cheerfully observed. 

“All that matters is we’re in the right place and at the right time,” Eilan said. “That was in part thanks to the information you provided. Whether it matters that you were wrong or not remains to be seen.”

“Well put,” Solas said. “Let us continue then into Mythal’s Sanctum.”

“Yes, only… I want to know how Corypheus returned to life,” Eilan said. “We saw him die.”

“And his life force passes on to any blighted creature, darkspawn or Grey Warden.”

“Any…Any Grey Warden?” That was monstrous, and that was why Corypheus had brought those specific mages to him. He wanted hosts. What might have happened then if he’d gotten a hold of Surana or Anders? It didn’t bear dwelling on, but it meant sorting Corypheus out needed to done before he could attempt such a thing.

“Then Corypheus cannot die,” Solas said. “Destroy his body, and he will assume another.”

They arrived at what seemed initially like a large tiled floor, but the pieces lit up as they stood on them. There were instructions in...

“Ancient elven,” Morrigan said. 

“Atish’all vir abelasan,” Solas added. “It means ‘Enter the Path of the Well of Sorrows.’”

“And it means ‘Welcome to a Pointless Puzzle’ in Qunlat,” Bull muttered. “I am so over this shit.”

“It is hardly that,” Solas said.

Bull snorted. “Yeah? Is it a lot different from playing connect the dots and picking up useless shards?”

Eilan shrugged. “It ought to be less complicated.

“Uh huh. Right.”

“There is something about knowledge,” Morrigan said. “Respectful or pure. Shiven, shivennen… ‘Tis all I can translate. That it mentions the Well is a good omen. Supplicants to Mythal would have first paid obeisance here. Following their path may aid entry.”

Bull eyed her impatiently. “Yeah, yeah. We're all very impressed. Can we just get it over with?”

“Big guy’s got a point,” Varric said. “It mentions the Well, and that’s great, but who cares?”

“We ought to care somewhat,” Eilan said, looking to Solas and then the others. “This seems like a tradition or important ritual. And surely the temple warrants respect? Were this an ancient Chantry, we would follow every single instruction.”

“Some of us would. I still wouldn't care,” Bull said.

Cassandra sighed. “Respectful or not… Performing a ritual to appease elven gods? Long-dead or no, I don’t like it.”

“It is where the ancient elves paid fealty to the gods,” Solas corrected. “I have seen it. In the Fade. Only the reverent were permitted to touch this ground, and only in solemn contemplation.”

There were snorts from several of his companions, but they all looked fairly apologetic when Eilan glared at them.

“That settles it,” Eilan said, shooing them off of the glowing tiles. “All of you need to stand aside, and I will proceed with this on my own.

The puzzle itself wasn’t very difficult, but he followed the path slowly and mindfully. There had been elves on the bridge, and there might be more. They would make for better allies than enemies. The walk also gave him time to think, to try and shrug off how he felt in learning Corypheus was fairly close to immortal. 

“You did well, and yet you remain troubled,” Solas said quietly when Eilan joined them again.

“I can’t help it,” Eilan said with a sigh.

“You do all kinds of impossible things,” Bull pointed out as they began to head further into the temple. “What’s one more?”

“What if it’s the one thing I cannot do?”

“Eh, I’m not a fan of hypotheticals. I know you and I believe in you so you’ll do it.”

They moved on up a set of staircases towards a door that was glowing the same blue as the tiles had been. 

Red templars and horrors lay ahead, blasting the stone floor in an effort to make their way further into the temple. They clearly had ignored the path in the previous room. 

“Hold them off,” a templar said, and the horrors scrambled to obey. They were joined by quite a large number of archers as the templars disappeared below. 

The fight took a bit longer, but then fighting against arrows and horrors required more effort than mages and templars. 

“Let’s just go this way,” Bull said, eying the hole in the ground. 

“Hold, a moment,” Morrigan said.

Bull scowled. 

“While they rush ahead, this leads to our true destination,” Morrigan added, pointing to the door behind them. “We should walk the petitioner’s path as before.”

Eilan sighed inwardly. He appreciated the difference of opinion, but he didn’t like Morrigan instructing as though this was not a conclusion he might have arrived at on his own. 

“An army fights and dies for us,” Cassandra said. “The longer we tarry, the more soldiers we lose outside. Let’s jump down and be done with this place.”

“In this case, I must agree with the witch,” Solas said. “This is ancient ground, deserving of our respect.”

“It’s a waste of time,” Bull insisted.

“Or is it?” Morrigan asked before turning to Eilan. “You see the urgency. We cannot find the Well of Sorrows unprepared.” 

“I understand,” Eilan said softly, looking to his companions. “I do, but the men and women fighting for us will die for nothing if we cannot gain access to the Well. That said, Morrigan, you’re very eager to reach our destination.”

“Are we not all eager to stop Corypheus from achieving his mad plan?”

“Not if I’m replacing his mad plan for another.”

Morrigan considered him, and moved away from the group. Eilan followed her. “There is,” she said, “a danger to the natural order. Legends walked Thedas once. Things of might and wonder. Their passing has left us all the lesser. Corypheus would squander the ancient power of the Well. I would have it restored.”

“I can appreciate that but… Things of might and wonder seem to be in short supply. Things of might and murder and manipulation are running rampant.”

“Mankind blunders through the world, crushing what it does not understand: elves, dragons, magic… The list is endless. We must stem the tide or be left with nothing more than the mundane. This I know to be true.”

“I can’t argue with that,” Eilan admitted. “What else do you know about the Well? What did the altar indicate?”

“Like most elven writing, it was insufferably vague. The term I deciphered was ‘Halam’shivanas’—‘The sweet sacrifice of duty.’ It implies the loss of something personal for duty’s sake. Yet for those who served as this temple, a worthwhile trade.”

“When one can chose the sacrifices they make, I imagine it can be worthwhile,” Eilan wryly observed.

But just what curse or price the Well of Sorrows would demand of them remained as vague as the elven writing. Instead, they returned to the group where Eilan announced his decision to go through the path left behind by ancient petitioners and worshippers.

*

Three paths, or floor puzzles later, they were confronted by the Temple’s guardians. 

It seemed entirely likely that Eilan’s respectful, solemn willingness to honor their traditions was the only reason why a conversation was possible. Eilan’s smile must have indicated as much for when he turned towards Bull, the Qunari grunted significantly and rolled his eyes. 

Abelas, their leader, explained that they were sentinels standing against any who would dare trespass into their temple and disturb its sacred ground. Their job was to fight and defend only to slumber again until they were needed, but the battles had left their order considerably depleted. 

As far as the Well was concerned, Abelas was far from eager to reveal its location to them. “It is not for you. It is not for any of you.”

“He clings to all that remains of his world,” Solas said quietly, coming up behind Eilan. “Because he lacks the power to restore it.”

Eilan nodded minutely, keeping his focus on Abelas. 

“You’re elves from ancient times then?” Dorian asked. “Before the Tevinter Imperium destroyed Arlathan?”

“The shemlen did not destroy Arlathan. We Elvvhen warred upon ourselves. By the time the doors to this sanctuary closed, our time was over.”

“Can that really be true?” Dorian asked, more to himself than anyone else. “It must be. Why would he lie?”

“We endure,” Abelas said. “The vir’abelsan must be preserved.”

“Your name means… sorrow,” Eilan said with a frown. “Was the name given to you?”

The elf blinked minutely, but he did not answer.

“Would you tell us more about the vir’abelsan?”

“It is a path, one walked only by those who toiled in Mythal’s favor.”

“He speaks—”

“Morrigan,” Eilan said, tone gentle but very audible. “There is no need to tell me what is happening before my eyes. You are right, after all. Abelas is speaking, and I would hear what he has to say.

The look she gave him wasn’t hostile so much as wistful as if she was remembering another time, another conversation, and another hero. Surana, perhaps?

“It is just as well that she would advise you,” Abelas said. “More than that you need not know.”

“I see,” although Eilan really did not, but he imagined the elf would not be anymore forthcoming. And, in truth, why should he be? “We knew this place was sacred. We’ve respected it as best we could.”

Abelas considered Eilan, expression pensive and one of his hands raised slightly towards his face. As he lowered the hand, he said: “I believe you. Trespassers you are, but you have followed rites of petition. You have shown respect to Mythal. If these others are enemies of yours, we will aid you in destroying them. When this is done, you shall be permitted to depart…and never return.”

“This is our goal,” Solas said calmly. “There is no reason to fight these sentinels.”

“Consider carefully,” Morrigan said immediately afterwards. “You must stop Corypheus, yes, but you may also need the Well for your own.”

“I will not turn into Corypheus to stop him,” Eilan snapped, unable to help himself. “I will not use and abuse people as he uses them. I want power, but not the sort he craves. I will not cater to my own needs at the expense of those from who so much power as been taken already. I will not steal from those who would aid us, and I will not consider what is obvious.” He turned from her, looking up to where the elf still stood. “I accept your offer, Abelas, and I thank you for it.”

“You will be guided to those you seek. As for the vir’abelasan… It shall not be despoiled, even if I must destroy it myself.” He moved towards the large, open set of doors behind him.

“No,” Morrigan cried, and she chased after him.

“Morrigan!”

But it was no use. Eilan cursed quietly under his breath. 

“I’m sure we’ll find her again. Once all the work has been done,” Dorian said. “She’s not one for listening, is she?”

“She’s too busy talking,” Eilan said sadly. He blinked, glancing back when Solas set a hand on his shoulder.

“That is often the way of things. Come, Inquisitor. Our guides will want to begin.”

*

They fought more Red Templars, Venatori and Grey Wardens as they ventured further into the temple. It took a great deal of time but they did manage to catch up to Abelas and Morrigan. 

Abelas was able to use magic to form stone stairs up to where the Well waited. Morrigan flew. And feeling more than a little sick and tired of Morrigan’s antics, Eilan ran after them.

She transformed before them, looking determined. “You heard his parting words, Inquisitor. The elf seeks to destroy the Well of Sorrows.”

“Abelas,” Eilan corrected. “Considering his name and the Well’s title, is it not his place? Is he not a true follower of Mythal? This is her sacred ground, and he is charged with its care.” 

“I am only doing—”

“Do you even know? Eilan asked. “Because if this your honest attempt to convince Abelas to change his mind, it is going rather poorly, wouldn’t you say?”

But the elf looked miserable and resigned as he looked at them. “So the sanctum is despoiled at last.”

“Just as you would have despoiled the Well if given the chance,” Morrigan pointed out.

“To keep it from your grasping fingers! Better it be lost than bestowed upon the undeserving!”

“Fool!”

“Shut up,” Eilan demanded. “Just… stop, Morrigan. How can you act as if you are so much better than he is? This is his people’s legacy.”

“That he would allow to rot in the shadows.”

Eilan sighed. “Better some things rot than fall into the hands of those who do not understand what they’re tinkering with.”

“Your ability to be more than Tranquil is the result of that tinkering. Or had you forgotten?”

“And your ability to say the wrong thing all the fucking time hasn’t gone unnoticed,” Bull growled out. 

“Nevertheless… Inquisitor, you cannot afford to ignore this advantage,” Morrigan insisted. 

Abelas shook his head, staring out over the water making up the vir’abelsan. “As each servant of Mythal reached the end of their years, they would pass their knowledge on… through this.” He turned back, looking at Eilan. “All that we were. All that we knew. It would be lost forever.”

The Well of Sorrows indeed. Eilan lowered his head, unsure what to say. It did seem a waste to leave that knowledge behind, but he hated the entire situation. He loathed how Morrigan had set about demanding so much be given to them, and he didn’t know how to find a middle path.

“Is that your desire?” Abelas asked. “To partake of the vir’abelsan as best you can, to fight your enemy?”

“Not this way. Not anything like it,” Eilan insisted. “How can I without your permission?”

“One does not obtain permission. One obtains the right.” So saying, Abelas moved a distance away from them and the Well itself. “The vir’abelsan may be too much for a mortal to comprehend.” He looked back. “Brave it if you must, but know you this: you shall be bound forever to the Will of Mythal.”

Eilan felt cold and took a step back from the water’s edge.

Morrigan was not at all as affected. “Bound? To a goddess who no longer exists, if she ever did?”

“Bound, as we are bound,” Abelas said, looking only at Eilan. “The choice is yours.”

“Are you leaving the Temple?” Eilan asked.

“Our duty ends. Why remain?”

“There is a place for you, lethallin,” Solas said. “If you seek it.”

“Perhaps there are places the shemlen haven’t touched. It may be that only ulthenera awaits us. The blissful sleep of eternity, never to awaken.”

“Surely not,” Eilan insisted, feeling suddenly and utterly wracked with guilt. They had ruined this place, ruined what little this man had left. And even if the magisters hadn’t destroyed Arlathan, they were destroying a remnant of elven culture to destroy a magister.

“If fate is kind,” Abelas added quietly. “There are worse things than sleep.”

“Would you even consider… That is, you could join us. Perhaps. Corypheus killed many of your people.”

“We killed ourselves, long ago.”

“You are still living,” Eilan gently pointed out. “It is probably best you make your own way in the world as it is, but if you need somewhere to rest or belong… There is Tarasyl'an Te'las.” He said the elven word for Skyhold slowly, but he hoped accurately. Abelas’ stoic silence made him slightly nervous. “I would be glad to have you there. Not to serve a cause but perhaps to make some small amends for my actions today. And those of my people.”

Abelas inclined his head. What he thought of the idea was difficult to say, but he had listened. And he did not seemed disgusted. That was something.

“Malas amelin ne halam, Abelas.”

Abelas looked to Solas and then he left them. 

“Abelas does mean sorrow,” Solas explained. “I said… I hoped he finds a new name.”

“I do too,” Eilan said quietly. He sighed heavily, gazing at the water and then across to the opposite stone bank. An eluvian.

“I was correct on that count, at least,” Morrigan said. 

“‘Mankind blunders through the world,’” Eilan said, voice stern. “‘Crushing what it does not understand.’ Those were your words, Morrigan.”

“And?”

“What would you call this?” Eilan asked, gesturing around them. “How can you not see the error in your ways? You seem to think you are not included in mankind's stomping about and crushing everything in its path, but what you’ve done today. How can that be different? We’re destroying--”

“Nothing, Inquisitor. I told you what I mean to do. I want to preserve what is here, to restore it.”

“Not all that is lost is meant to be found,” Eilan said quietly. “But it is too late now. I suppose… As soon as we arrived here, it was too late. I didn’t understand what we were truly seeking, and because of that, we’ve ruined everything.”

“Ain’t no ‘we’ in this,” Bull insisted, moving over to them. “We didn’t shapeshift into a bird and back a crazy, sleepy old elf into a corner. And even if we had, kadan... You can’t ruin a ruin.”

As if the conversation did not really concern or matter much to her, Morrigan returned to her previous point: “You recall when I took you through my eluvian, I said each required a key? The Well _is_ the key. Take its power, and Mythal’s last eluvian will be no more use to Corypheus than glass.” She swayed a bit, holding a hand out over the water. “I did not expect the Well to feel so…hungry.”

Like seemed to attract like in that case. Although Eilan felt the pull, the desire to move further down and into the still water. To soak up the knowledge and pay any price to— No. “Can we stop being reckless? For a change of pace?” Eilan asked. “I don’t want anyone else hurt by our actions here.”

Morrigan blinked, swaying some more. Eventually she looked towards Eilan. “I am willing to pay the price the Well demands. I am also the best suited to use its knowledge in your service.”

“Or more likely to your own ends,” Solas pointed out.

“What would you know of my ‘ends,’ elf?”

“Well, there's all the stupid shit you've done since we arrived here,” Bull said. “Might have given him a few clues as to what to expect.”

“You are glutton drooling at the sight of a feast,” Solas angrily declared as he glared at Morrigan. “You cannot be trusted.”

“Of those present, I alone have the training to make use of this. Let me drink, Inquisitor.”

“Then…” Eilan glanced around at his companions. “Should it be you, Solas?”

“No,” he said, sounding slightly cold. “Do not ask me again, da’len.”

Eilan stared out at the water, uncertain as to how to proceed. He felt the tug, the insistence, and it made his fingers shake, ice forming around his fingernails. “I’m not sure that I can do it. I am not sure that I want to. Thoughts?”

“The Well could help you. Provide power for you on the battle to come,” Bull said, coming over and setting a hand on Eilan’s shoulder. One large knuckle grazed his cheek before fingers tangled in his hair. “Knowing you’re probably gonna give all that to her… It pisses me off, but, kadan… I also know that a lot of shit has happened to you. And you’re right. This isn’t how you want power, this isn’t who you want to be. I want a lot of things for you, but I don’t want you to change.”

“No one does,” Dorian insisted. “It should be Morrigan. This was what she wanted, and she wants it still. Even after what Abelas said. So let her drink. Let her accept the consequences and being bound to a god. Let her take that risk. I don’t want to lose you to a well.”

Morrigan simply sighed, looking impatient. 

“She is right about only one thing,” Solas reluctantly added. “We should take the power which lies in the Well.”

Cassandra pushed her way forward. “Inquisitor. If it is truly between you and her… Then let her take the risk.”

“I hate to do this, but I have to agree with her,” Varric said. “Where ever this particular story’s going? Let’s have you follow it instead of participate. It wouldn’t kill you to the sidelines. At least until she tells us what we can do about Corypheus. And at this point anything he wants probably isn't something you need.”

Eilan cleared his throat, feeling rather guilty. He did, however, agree with some of what Dorian had suggested. As unkind as it was, Morrigan was the one who had forced them into this situation. She was the one who seemed unconcerned about her actions and their consequences. He also appreciated the general consensus that he himself would not really benefit from partaking of the Well himself.

And honestly Eilan could not drink from the well. He could not lose himself to someone else’s will. He did not want to serve a living or a dead god. He did, however, want to save Thedas from Corypheus and allowing Morrigan to drive was a way to achieve that goal. It was the way he’d been provided. Like so many other roads before, he would take this path. He only felt troubled that he was not going it alone and was asking another to do something he himself would never have wished to do.

“You are certain?” he asked Morrigan. “I’m not saying you are wrong even if I do not approve of your methods or lack of tact. I also understand that we need this knowledge to fight Corypheus, but the cost—”

“Eilan Trevelyan, do not project your own concerns unto me,” she said. “Do not deliberate any longer. Do not hesitate. Give me your decision.”

Eilan sighed, forcing back a sudden surge of anger and irritation. He looked back to the water, drawing on his magic and arcane studies. He kept feeling that at any moment hands would rise out from the water, tug him down and drown him. Only to release him when his lungs were thick with water and something more consuming. Knowledge that wasn’t his own. Voices that weren’t his own. Demands coming from the men and women who had breathed their last in the vir’abelsan. 

“Morrigan… Looking at it, listening to it… That’s not just knowledge from the ancient priests. It’s their will.”

“How would you know such a thing?”

Dorian made a very loud tutting noise.

“…that’s what Abelas was telling us,” Eilan said, a little stunned that this seemed to be news to Morrigan. “This Well is made up of the collective will of Mythal's priests. Its waters place anyone who drinks from it under a compulsion, a geas. Can’t you feel it?”

Morrigan exhaled sharply, looking at the water. “That… would explain the legends, but it does not tell us what the geas entails.”

“Nothing good,” Varric said, sounding exasperated. “Seriously. Is it just me or is that obvious?”

Morrigan cleared her throat. “I would still use the Well,” she said, “but you are right. We must be cautious.”

Eilan closed his eyes briefly before looking at her. At this point it seemed clear she would drink from it whether he allowed it or not. He couldn't afford to her to keep undermining his authority not so much for the sake of appearances so much as his own peace of mind. _Better to let her drink_ , he thought. Eventually he would take steps towards working with her as little as possible. Once Corypheus was dealt with, of course. “It’s yours,” he said quietly. 

Morrigan slowly moved forward, stepping into the water. She smiled as she moved to the Well’s center, spinning and eying the water around her. There was a strange light and strange hissing voices as she sank down. Something seemed to wrap around and then the water rose as a wave, splashing out and over them.

Once the water was gone, Eilan ran to the center of the empty Well. 

Morrigan was speaking in ancient elven, touching her own face in confusion. Eventually, she rose to her feet. “I… I am intact. There is much to shift through… But now we can—”

Blue smoke swirled around their feet, voices spoke in hushed whispers from the rolling fog, and then Eilan saw him. Corypheus. 

The darkspawn magister used magic to propel himself into the air and forward. From somewhere off in the distance, came the piercing screech of the Archdemon. As Corypheus moved closer, Morrigan opened the eluvian. Blue light poured out, and they all ran through.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I do enjoy Morrigan as a character, I found her really difficult to deal with during parts of What Pride Had Wrought. I imagined her attitude would not sit well with Eilan and her actions certainly wouldn't help matters. If I could have thought of a way to make things work without the Well being involved, I might have gone that route but I do sort of like what the quest entailed.
> 
> Blackwall's Judgment should take place in the next chapter. And there should be more Cullen. And pretty soon everyone will be off to face Corypheus.
> 
> As always, thanks BakaKnight for looking this over. And thank you to those leaving comments! :) Feedback is awesome and really helps me get chapters finished.


	46. Chapter 46

*  
On the other side of the eluvian and back in Skyhold, Eilan took a head count before moving briskly away from them. A scout needed to be sent immediately or would have if Cole hadn’t entered the room.

“Black wings beat hard against the sky. He is bested again. And the others are well and returning,” Cole cheerfully observed. “And you are the same.”

“So far,” Eilan said, taking comfort in knowing how much that meant to his companions. 

Cole glanced at Solas, frowning briefly. Then he shrugged, focusing again on Eilan. “I am glad you did not drink.”

If anyone else had been monitoring his activities from such a considerable distance and through such odd means, Eilan might have felt something besides a mixture of relief and gratitude. But this was Cole’s way, and it was a comfort. Eilan imagined this was what it was like to get used to someone else whether they were a friend or a lover. Like the way he was used to Bull’s snoring and rumblings. Or Cullen’s occasional stirring in the middle of the night, his warm arm wrapping around Eilan as he sought out gentle reassurances that all was well.

“I am too,” Eilan said quietly.

“You have enough sorrow. Enough burdens,” Cole pointed out, resting his hand on Eilan’s shoulder. “There must be less for you. Not more.”

Eilan smiled. “True enough. I’m sorry we left you behind.”

“I kept watch as you asked,” Cole said. “Waited for your return. You’ve done the same for me.”

Morrigan groaned quietly and moved away from the group. “Tis best I take my leave of you,” she said, brow furrowed. It was hard to tell if she was in pain or merely forcing herself not to speak in elven. “I must sit with this new knowledge for a time. When your advisors have returned, we will talk.”

Eilan nodded. He thought of suggesting she take her time, but he knew she’d point out that didn’t have the luxury. He thought of offering to send a healer to her, but he wasn’t sure she’d accept the help. Morrigan seemed to only learn the hard way. “Let me know when you’ve recovered.”

The others dispersed, many of them eager to enjoy a fairly quiet keep while they waited for the bulk of the Inquisition’s forces to return. 

“I dunno about you, but I’m done with elven nonsense,” Bull said when they were alone. “Let’s go eat something.”

Eilan laughed, ducking his head when Bull began petting his hair. “End of discussion?”

Bull glanced down as he began steering Eilan towards the door. “What else is there to say?”

“I… Well, I suppose I ought to just ask. Are you disappointed?”

“A little,” Bull admitted. “That temple was a bit of a letdown. So were the fights. I mean, we didn’t get any sort of epic showdown what with Corypheus being literally all over the place. And Samson rotting downstairs.”

“No, I mean… In me.”

“In you,” Bull stated flatly. “Is this another situation where hypothetical me’s about to be a dick?”

“No, it’s about… What you said. You would have drunk from the Well.”

“Yeah, I would have. And unless some compelling evidence presents itself, I’m guessing I’d have regretted it five seconds later. Pretty sure the witch is. Not that she’d say as much.”

“But you—”

Bull sighed, tugging Eilan against him. He leaned down and kissed Eilan’s cheek. “Kadan, what I would do and what you wouldn’t do isn’t the same thing. Sure, it overlaps from time to time because we’re both awesome and heroes and all that, but we’re not the same sort of person. You have to be the person you are. I respect that, not just because I love you but because you’re in charge. And a capable leader to boot. So what I think doesn’t actually matter.” 

“But for the record?”

Whatever Bull said in Qunlat was probably unkind. He didn’t bother translating. “Okay. Fine. For the record… No. Not disappointed and definitely not surprised. Still don’t like her having all that power, but I wasn’t exactly thrilled about the idea of your head messed with. Is that good?”

“I think so.”

“Well, move past thinking to knowing. You can’t go into a battle to save the world constantly looking over your shoulder to see if I’m giving you a big ole thumbs up or frowning.”

“I know that,” Eilan said. “It’s just that… I love you.”

“Well, of course. But for the record? My love for you is pretty fucking contingent on you being you. Who’s keeping this record anyway?”

Eilan rolled his eyes. “No one, as you well know. But… I suppose I ought to. The points you’ve made are well worth remembering.”

“Always glad to help,” Bull said. 

*

The next day, the first of several he would spend waiting for his army to return, Eilan made more rounds and visited his friends. He pulled pranks with Sera, watched people with Cole, practiced magic with the Chargers, and learned improved techniques from Vivienne.

Eilan found Dorian in the library reading one of Cassandra’s books.

“What happened at the Temple… It got me thinking. I should go back, shouldn’t I? To Tevinter. Once this is done…” He closed the book and got up from his chair. He moved past Eilan, heading for other bookshelves and the railing. “If we’re still alive. All my talk of how terribly wrong things are back home, but what do I do about it? Nothing.”

“I’m…not sure I understand. Things are changing back home. You and Maevaris and others like you… It might be slower than it’s been here for us, but the stakes are more obviously dire what with the rifts and everything.”

“That isn’t entirely untrue,” Dorian admitted.

“And how does this relate to the Temple?”

“That elf, Abelas, he said the Imperium wasn’t what destroyed the elves. My people would never accept it. It would reduce us to scavengers, destroy our legacy no matter how terrible. But we should accept it, take our history down a peg, confront the legacy hanging over us like a shroud. Maybe not all of us want to, but that could be altered. If you can change minds, so can I.”

“That takes time too,” Eilan said with a sigh.

Dorian raised an eyebrow. “It’s what you’ve done.”

“Only in part. There’s so much I would love to take down a peg and confront, Dorian. So many legacies I could do without, and yet they endure.”

“The Chantry.”

“Yes.”

Dorian set a hand on his shoulder. “At least you can help pick the next Divine. That will make a difference. And this is precisely what I mean, Eilan. You make monumental decisions affecting the entire world. How can I not consider some of my own?”

“But I couldn’t do this without you. So perhaps I could help.”

“Help?”

“You. If you’re willing to stay after. You could wait, and then we could visit Tevinter together. And then you wouldn’t have to leave for good.”

Dorian blinked. “For good? Eilan, I would hardly abandon you entirely.”

“Then Dorian, please don't leave? I… I know I can’t demand it of you, but you mean so much to me.”

“Again, I would not leave you for good, but I can’t imagine you coming with. When would I ever be able to take you away from all this?”

“We’d find time and a way. Maevaris and other Magisters like her will be fighting for changes anyway.”

“There is another concern,” Dorian said with an apologetic frown. “You mean a great deal to me. As does our friendship, but if I brought you to Tevinter…You would end up doing it all yourself. This is something I need to do.”

“Needing your help won’t change once Corypheus is gone. There are rifts to close and there is still so much to do. I wouldn’t ask you to turn your back on your homeland, but I can’t say I’d like for you to do the same to me.”

“Emotional blackmail is a fine thing to pull out of your arsenal.”

Eilan looked down at his hands, unsure of what to do.

“I’m joking,” Dorian said quietly. He took Eilan’s hand in his, warming them slightly. “And yet this is a decision I will not make lightly. I’ll think about it. Closely. All right?”

“All right.”

Eilan wandered slowly down the stairs to Solas’ quarters, feeling a little overwhelmed. He had thought about Dorian leaving before, and the idea had troubled him just as much then as it did at that particular moment. But people would leave. He couldn’t imagine Vivienne staying for long. She might visit or at least offer, but she’d leave. And the others…

He shrugged off the anxiety and sat down in a chair in front of Solas’ desk. 

The elf was writing something in a large leather-bound journal. He closed it, glancing up and considering Eilan. “Morrigan is making progress. As am I. I have left the matter of Corypheus to her and returned to another important matter,” he clarified, gesturing towards the tome on the Seekers of Truth.

“On the Rite of Tranquility?”

“All my notes are here. For after you’ve dealt with Corypheus. And more besides.”

Eilan frowned at Solas’ wording. “After I’ve… What will you do, Solas? Once he’s been dealt with, I mean.”

Solas inclined his head slightly. He steepled his fingers considering something, weighing options perhaps. “I will be honest,” he said, more to himself than Eilan. “There are other matters that will require my attention. For how long, I cannot say. I do not know.”

“I see.”

“When we met, you were lost. Like a child in blinding snow. You are whole now. Strong. Brave. Wise. You don’t need me here to know what to do or who to be. You haven’t needed that in a very long time.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to watch you or any of the others leave.”

“It brings me no pleasure to depart,” Solas gently replied. “My leaving does not diminish what you have accomplished or how much we mean to each other. I need not be here to watch over you.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Dreams of spirits. Of peace. Of quiet. Who do you think carried them to you?”

“You did that?”

“I did that,” Solas said with a thin smile. “You have been a good friend. One that I have needed. One that has taught me much. One that I shall miss. Where I go, part of you goes also.”

“You taught me too.”

“Not nearly as much as you think,” Solas said. “But thank you.”

Eilan nodded, thinking things over. It was difficult and unpleasant in some ways, but he understood. Or, at least, he could try. He hadn’t been able to do as much for Dorian, not yet, but then he felt as if he was losing Dorian to Tevinter. He didn’t think he was losing Solas so much as letting him continue on whatever path he’d been on before he’d stopped to help save a human stranger. 

“Solas… If you can come back…”

Solas sighed heavily. “That, I cannot say for certain.”

“I know only… If you can come back, will you?”

“Yes.”

Eilan hesitated than reached across the table, briefly setting a hand over the other mage’s. “Thank you. For being my friend.”

“It continues to be no great hardship,” Solas said with a smile. “And yet you are most welcome.”

Eilan spent the afternoon alone on the battlements, sorting out how he felt and wishing that Cullen would come home. Or to Skyhold. The place wouldn’t feel much like home once all his friends left him.

Cassandra joined him as the sun began to set. Considering that Dorian had been reading one of her books and Solas had been studying another, it was hardly surprising that she’d found him. Inevitable, really. 

“I remember,” she said quietly, “that first day. How I took your staff from you. How I treated you.”

“You didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Perhaps not, but you are my friend. I do not care for how I conducted myself on that day. I am not proud of how I behaved in the face of so much chaos.”

“That days are far behind us now.”

“They are, but I am glad I’ve had you to walk alongside. That, whatever our differences, we’ve had you to guide us.”

“One more battle left.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Oh, it only begins. We have so much to do.”

“We do,” Eilan said, frowning slightly. “Cassandra… I think… That is, have you given much thought to being Divine?”

“Should I?”

“You believe that the Chantry should be a source of faith and hope. You were willing to leave behind an Order that no longer could help the people of Thedas.”

Cassandra looked out towards the courtyard below. “In my years as a Seeker, I did what I was told. My faith demanded it. But now my faith demands something else. That I see with better eyes.”

“You can do that. I… I’d like to help, and I would like to… That is, things cannot return to the way they were. And I would like to work with someone who understands. Someone who I think feels the way I feel?”

Cassandra considered this with a pensive frown. “Tell me, Eilan. Where do you see the mages in all of this?”

“It’s not that simple. It is not just a matter of where I see one set of people, but that I see all of us. And I see colleges, places of instruction and teaching. I see templars and Grey Warden and soldiers keeping everyone from harm rather than inflicting it upon others… I see people taking strength and solace in their beliefs, trying to reach others with words and actions. Not with a show of force.”

“As it should be,” Cassandra murmured. “The Chantry should be sought after by the virtuous, not avoided. The Circles of Magi… They are needed but with much reform. Let the mages should govern themselves. And the templars, let them stand not as jailers of mages but protectors of the innocent. There is much to learn from the Grey Wardens as well for we must be vigilant. But we must be compassionate to all peoples of Thedas, human or no. That is what I would change.” 

_What_ we will accomplish, Eilan thought. “I hope that it is you who is chosen,” he said quietly.

“You mean that,” she said, eying him intensely.

In regards to the next Divine, Eilan had avoided speaking to Vivienne, more than aware of her political leanings and not interested in a debate. He’d discussed the idea briefly with Leliana, but she’d seemed slightly overzealous in her desires to dismantle the Chantry. And although it was what Eilan wanted, he also felt as if maybe the Chantry Cassandra could maintain would be different. Something better. Something other people needed even if he did not.

“I do. Your determination and your willingness to take on any challenge… I admire that about you. And what we've been able to do here... I should like for that to continue.”

Cassandra nodded, approvingly. “It is hard to say who the clerics will select, but I should be glad to continue to work with you, Inquisitor. In whatever capacity I am able. Should I be the next Divine, I would greatly value your aid and advice.”

“Then...I suppose it's obvious, but just to be clear... You’re not going to leave as soon as Corypheus is down for the count?”

“And hope this pack of fools you’ve gathered provides you with the support you need?” Cassandra asked. Her lips curved up as she smirked. “Unlikely.”

*

Both Dorian and Solas accompanied Eilan and Bull the following day on a trip to Maevaris’ new residence, a small white farmhouse in the middle of virtually nowhere.

“Let me find Anders,” Maevaris had said once she’d ushered them in and fed them.

She disappeared out to the barn, and took her time in returning. She was smirking slightly when she rejoined them. She laughed when Anders plucked a stray piece of straw from her hair. But she didn’t seem eager in their conversation, most likely because she’d hear about it from her husband later on.

Eilan followed Anders and Solas to a small study. He explained the situation with Corypheus as well as he understood it. And then he listened as they discussed what Solas had learned from Cassandra’s book. It had been decided without any real discussion that Anders would help Eilan after Corypheus. How the others would feel about that was hard to say, but didn’t entirely matter.  
When they moved onto speaking in more general terms about magic and spirits, Eilan returned to the parlor where Maevaris and Dorian were chatting.

“You seem a bit down, dear. Troubled, but then I imagine there is a great deal on your mind.”

Eilan shrugged, sitting down in an armchair. “So much is happening.”

“Oh, it’s hardly that,” Dorian insisted. “Don’t let him fool you, Mae. It’s just that Cullen’s late in arriving.”

“He’d better show up soon,” Eilan muttered. “Or else I should be very cross. Particularly with all this talk of _you_ leaving.”

Maevaris raised an eyebrow. “Where is it you’re going, Dorian?”

Dorian sighed. “Home. That is, I’m entertaining the notion.”

“Maker’s Sake, why?”

“To make a difference.”

“You’re doing that here, aren’t you?”

“It’s not the same as doing so for my homeland.”

Maevaris sighed, shaking her head. “It’s going to be a slow, tedious process, darling. Unless you imagine I’ve just been twiddling my thumbs for over a decade. No, you’re better off leading by example.”

“That doesn’t have to be done from here in Ferelden. Surely not.”

“Darling, you’ll be thrown out of the Imperium if you come marching into the Senate waving your arms and telling all of the Magisters assembled they are no better than vultures scouring the desert sands. I know. There’s been days I’ve considered doing as much myself.”

“But not because of the elves.”

“As if that would matter,” Maevaris said with a frown. She absently fingered her blonde curls and sighed. “And don’t tell me it ought to. Of course it ought to. But you must understand, Dorian, Magisters are still mainly old men who continue to pretend that they are living in a dead age. But slowly each and every year younger, more open-minded people replace them. You can join them and be a part of the change, but you are already proving that we are much more than we’ve allowed ourselves to become just by being here. By being a Tevinter altus on the side of the Herald of Andraste.”

“Who needs you,” Eilan added hopefully. “Because you’re his dear friend.”

Maevaris laughed. “There is that to consider as well.” She only smiled when Dorian scowled. “Besides, wouldn’t you rather visit Tevinter with him? Show off the golems and all that pointy architecture and the buildings with the domes in Minrathous?”

Dorian’s frown increased. “I’m hardly a child bringing his friend and his favorite plush toy on an expedition. I am a grown man. And they are not… Mae, you know perfectly well they are called pinnacles and basilica.”

“Oh no, she doesn’t,” Anders said, entering the room. “I’ve been on what passes for a guided tour with her.”

“And?”

“And she made up names or told me to ask you. Or kissed me soundly until I forgot to ask anymore questions relating to history or architecture.”

Maevaris chuckled. “As I recall, you didn’t complain or care when the tour was cut short.”

“Only a fool would have dared,” Anders pointed out. “Besides, sweetheart, I hardly cared about the sights. Save for your lovely face, of course.”

Dorian frowned in dismay. “I don’t want to hear about this.”

Maevaris grinned. “Oh, but, Dorian… You’d be hearing quite a bit of this.”

“He would?” Anders asked around the same time as Dorian asked: “I will?”

“When he comes home,” Maevaris explained. “After all, Dorian… Who else would you be staying with? I’m not sure the Alexius estate will be available and you can’t be planning to go back home to your father. At least not right away.”

“I’ll move our entire estate before he moves back in with us,” Anders quietly muttered to Eilan. Then he moved further into the room, sitting next to his wife on a fairly small couch. 

“That’s all right, Anders?” Maevaris asked, taking his hand in hers. “You’d be happy to have Dorian around?”

“Yes, dear. I shall be thrilled.”

“Oh good.”

“I think I’ll go make sure Bull hasn’t destroyed all of your fine china,” Dorian said in a low grumble. And with that he stalked out of the room.

“It’ll work out,” Maevaris said, winking at Eilan. “You’ll see. Dorian is like anyone else. He wants to be needed. More than that. He wants to contribute and make a difference.”

“He does that,” Eilan said with a sigh. “I can’t… I wish he would stay.”

“You’d be a poor friend if you didn’t,” Anders pointed out. “Just keep telling him as much. Provided you mean it. Doing so might not seem important or worth the effort, but it is.”

“I just… I know friendship isn’t contingent on proximity…”

“No, but it certainly helps,” Maevaris replied. “He knows he has your support either way. And you won’t be rid of him as easily as you think.”

Eilan nodded, hoping she was right. 

*

It was difficult to greet Cullen with the sort of enthusiasm Eilan might have preferred. Although much of the Inquisition forces were still heading back from the Arbor Wilds, too many men were present. And Cullen had returned at the same time as a set of Orlesian guards. They were hauling a rather defeated-looking Blackwall to the dungeons.

“No sense in that,” Cullen had called out to them. “I’m sure the Inquisitor would like to judge him immediately.”

Eilan nodded glumly, and breathed a small sigh of relief as Cullen dealt with delegating orders. Josephine moved to the soldiers from Orlais to give them a more diplomatic send-off.

“But first, there is a matter of great urgency that I must discuss with him. In private,” Cullen said, steering Eilan away and into a rather dimly-lit corridor. 

Eilan all but tackled Cullen there, kissing him quite a bit and assuring him that he’d been missing.

Cullen chuckled, gently holding Eilan at arms’ length after a minute or so. “All right, all right. I’ll consider myself indispensable from now on, thank you.”

Eilan wrapped his arms around Cullen and sighed. “Sorry.”

“I don’t think this sort of reception that warrants any sort of apology. Although… With our luck, it’ll require an interruption.”

They both glanced around, laughing when they realized that, for once, no scout was about to materialize out of thin air.

Eilan kissed Cullen again. “It was strange not having you here.”

“You can only imagine how I’ve felt then.”

“I shouldn’t care to.”

“Let’s finish this after you settle matters with Blackwall.”

“Is that incentive to lean in a particular direction?”

Cullen chuckled, kissing Eilan’s cheek. “Hardly. Consider it motivation to get you to judge him. And I imagine whatever’s happened or troubling you requires a more appropriate venue.”

“There is that,” Eilan reluctantly admitted. He fingered the scar on Cullen’s lip before kissing him soundly and going into the main hall.

The judgment did not take long. There was nothing left to discuss and no other possible outcome besides keeping Blackwall in the Inquisition. 

“You have your freedom,” Eilan said after listening to Blackwall attempt to convince Eilan of the necessity for having him condemned yet again.

“It cannot be as simple as that.”

“It isn’t,” Eilan agreed. “There is nothing simple about freedom. You are free to return as the man you are not the traitor you think you were nor the Warden you pretended to be.”

“The man I am… I barely know him. And he— _I_ have a lot to make up for.” Blackwall glanced down at his chained hands. Then he closed his eyes considering the matter. Eventually he glanced up at Eilan. Or at least at the small throne Eilan was using. “If my future is mine, then I pledge it to the Inquisition. My sword is yours.”

“Then take your post, Thom Rainier.” 

If the words were halting and fumbling, it was because Eilan still could not make the name suit his companion. But it would have to. Eilan had to free his friend from more than just a past, but from unrealistic expectations. Thom was not a Warden. Maybe one day he would be, but for now it was enough that he would stay and strive to be a better man. It wouldn’t be hard. In many ways Thom Rainier already was.

Eilan tracked the man down later back in the stables. Rainier was rubbing his wrists, looking a bit baffled that the half-finished griffin had remained as he’d left it.

“I hope… That is, I want you to know I consider you a friend. That hasn’t changed,” Eilan said, feeling awkward and a tad miserable. He’d brought his staff with, the one the other man had made as if brandishing would prove his sincerity. In hindsight, it had been a bit childish. Or foolish.

If Rainier thought so, he gave no indication. He considered the staff, nodding reluctantly. Eilan wondered what he was seeing. Flaws in the craftsmanship or all of the splendid details he’d been able to carve. “Even if you didn’t know me? Even if you never did.”

“I know you. I've known you all of this time. I just didn’t know your name.”

Rainier shook his head.

“Look at this way then… We can both get to know whoever you are together, but I don’t think… That is, I doubt very much that you don’t know who you are. Perhaps it is only that you feel as if the parts of you that are Rainier must remain in conflict with the parts that became Blackwall. That the real you is somehow less or worse, but that can’t be true. The real you has been here all along.”

“Have you ever felt that way? From…” Rainier frowned, gesturing towards his own forehead. “From before, I mean. When you were Tranquil to how you are now?”

“To be honest, I still feel that way sometimes.”

Rainier eyed him, smiling ruefully. “It must be difficult to be so remarkable.”

Eilan shook his head.

“No, I mean that. You’ve overcome countless obstacles and people and problems. You’ve been put through the worst of it, and here you are telling me we’re friends no matter what. I won’t argue. I can’t. Only today it’s impossible for me to say as much. When I’ve earned it, learned more from the example you’ve set… Maybe then I can prove myself. Then I’ll be a friend worth having. For now, there is only a guilt I can’t be rid of. A gratitude that I find I cannot quite express. I am rather Orlesian in that way.”

Eilan smiled. “That’s a start.”

“And yet here we are approaching the ending of something. How much longer until we go after Corypheus?”

“Soon. I have to speak with Morrigan and my advisors. I’ll let you know, of course.”

“I’d be much obliged,” Rainier said with a thin grimace of a smile. “I’d like to hit something as soon as possible.”

Eilan nodded, turning to leave. He hesitated and then decided to hell with it. He leaned his staff against the door and gave Rainier a hug. “I’m glad to have you back.”

“I gathered as much,” Rainier wryly replied. He allowed the hug. Eilan wasn’t sure what his expression was, but eventually Rainier slowly let an arm wrap around Eilan’s shoulders. “Thank you for that.”

*

It was dark when Eilan found Cullen again. Or, rather, arrived at Cullen’s tower office. The Commander was never that difficult to find when he was at Skyhold. 

A trio of scouts had been conversation with Cullen, but he wrapped up the conversation with a series of instructions. He then doled out assignments even as he all but shoved them out the door.

“There’s always something,” he murmured, hands braced against the door frame. “Even now I can think of something. How you ought to fill me in on what happened at the Temple. How you ought to tell the others and we should get to work. And the work is relentless.”

Eilan moved to him, kissing Cullen’s neck. “I know.”

Cullen chuckled, turning his head so he could kiss Eilan properly. “Yes, I’d wager you do,” he said gently. “Thank the Maker this war won’t last forever. Or much longer.”

“Perhaps no more than fortnight. In terms of Corypheus. There will much to do afterwards, but it’ll be different.”

Cullen sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “At first, I hadn’t considered much beyond our survival. Yours.”

“Isn’t that one and the same?”

“You’d think that, but no. Losing you… It’s more probable. It seems to be what happens to heroes. At any rate, I find my thoughts increasingly wandering to what happens after. When this is over… Well, I hope what we have won’t change.”

Eilan blinked. “Change?”

“I don’t want to move on from you. Ever. And I don’t get the sense that you want that, but I… I think sometimes I can see what Bull offers you, but not what I can besides maybe a safe refuge from the rest of this.”

“Oh, Cullen,” Eilan said, frowning. “You do offer that, but you’re also… I love you. I love fighting alongside you and talking with you. And when you’re not there, I miss you. I think about how when this is over, we won’t have to settle for letters so often. We can fight dragons together or just… Just be like this.”

“And that’s enough?”

“It’s what most people want. What mages expect not to have only…”

“Only?”

“It’s what Anders has. What I think Hawke has. Just someone who loves them no matter what and that makes it all mean something. I know people will leave me. I know that friends will have to part ways… But I can’t the thought of you not being with me. What we have… I know you love me and that I love you, but I don’t know if I always tell you how much it helps having you here. And Bull. Sometimes that’s all that sees me through the daily nonsense. Or the battles I’m forced to fight. Or the choices I have to make. That you want me to be me and to be with you and I--”

Cullen held a finger up to Eilan’s lips. “All right,” he said gently, moving them both away from the door. “It’s all right, Eilan. I understand. I do.”

Eilan smiled sheepishly, sitting down on the edge of Cullen’s desk once his thighs pressed up against it. He rather suspected Cullen had moved him there on purpose. “Good. Because I’m not sure what else I was going to say.”

“Something else sweet and insightful and endearing, I’ve no doubt,” Cullen said, kissing Eilan’s cheek and then his hair. “Thank you. I know it’s obvious, but I’ve lost a great deal by assuming so much. I don’t want to make that mistake again, and we haven’t discussed the future all that often.”

Eilan tilted his head back so Cullen could nibble lightly as his neck. He brushed his fingers through Cullen’s hair, gripping lightly and holding the other man in place. “Hm. Well. Whatever it involves, you’re there. With me. And we’re happy.”

“I would like to always be very happy. With you.”

Eilan let Cullen go, smirking as the Commander eyed him with a warm fondness and rather heated intent. “I can think of something else you’d enjoy before we get around to planning the end of this war.”

“Oddly enough,” Cullen said in low murmur, “so can I.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to say about this chapter. We're nearly at the end, and I'm feeling both good and sad about it. This will hardly be my last Dragon Age fic, but it is my first and my longest fic project to date. Completing it is such a relief and yet a bit like losing a friend.
> 
> As I've finished the last chapters and edited them as best I could, I'll be posting another chapter tomorrow (Monday). Then I will post the final chapter and epilogue on Tuesday.


	47. Chapter 47

*

In the morning, Eilan watched Cullen from the bed, a bit of light hitting his face and falling over his hands. Cullen’s praying was a bit like Cassandra’s unshakable faith, less a source of frustration and more a source of comfort. 

“What do you pray for?” Eilan asked quietly.

Cullen glanced up, smiling. “Today? Today, it’s many things, sweetheart. What I wish to keep. What I fear to lose. What I’m grateful for. Your safety.”

Eilan reached out a hand, tracing the curve of Cullen’s broad shoulder with several fingers. “Thank you.”

“If you object—”

“No,” Eilan insisted, brushing fingers over Cullen’s cheek. “I don’t object to you praying for my safety. I wouldn’t want it to be because I’m a mage or anything like that, but you don’t do that.”

“When I was younger, I might have. But not now. Now I understand that prayer is not meant to be used in that way. Nor is the Maker.”

Eilan smiled. “The Maker that you, Cassandra, Varric and the others pray to… I don’t think He is my enemy. I did once.“

“After Haven,” Cullen agreed. “You do not have to do anything for my sake, Eilan.”

“I know, but I don’t want to loathe the Maker or his teachings. I just want them to serve His people. And yet… All the same? I still don’t know if I would ever care to pray. Perhaps in time. I’m not sure I will ever have the right words.”

“I can find enough for the both of us,” Cullen suggested. “Even if you don’t say them, even if you never want to… You have the words. They’re here,” he added, kissing Eilan’s temple and brushing his knuckles over Eilan’s chest. Over his heart. “And they are just as important to me as you are.”

Eilan considered this idea, surprised to find it did not make him feel particularly afraid or anxious. Just hopeful for what the future could hold, and pleased that he was loved so well.

*

Preparing for the final fight had been interesting. The first part of it had involved stepping through the eluvian and chasing Morrigan who had been chasing her son who had been trying to locate his grandmother. Flemeth, the Witch of the Wilds had seemed formidable enough in her own right. But then it turned out she was also the vessel for Mythal.

Regret and relief had coursed through Eilan, and even once they were out of the eluvian, he couldn’t decide what he felt more deeply. 

Kieran remained unharmed, but he also had lost the spirit dwelling within him. He seemed all right, but a bit bereft. Then the mother and son smiled gently at one another, taking comfort in their shared affection.

Eilan watched them, feeling oddly wistful. Then he thought of the letter his own mother had sent, and the sigh building up within him faded away.

Morrigan sighed. “She wanted the Old God soul all along. Is it worth reminding myself that perhaps I do not know everything after all?”

“Mothers can be difficult to understand,” Eilan said. 

Morrigan chuckled briefly. “Tis putting it mildly,” she replied. “My mother has the soul of an elven goddess—or whatever ‘Mythal’ truly was—and her plans are unknown to me. I suspected she was not truly human but… this… I always thought the so-called ‘elven gods’ were little more than glorified rulers. But now I have doubt. And doubt is… An uncomfortable thing, Inquisitor.”

“Maybe it’s good to allow your perceptions to change.”

“Yes, well, just be thankful you did not drink from the Well. I am evidently bound to my mother for eternity.”

Eilan made a face.

“Exactly right.”

“For what it’s worth, you did the right thing for Kieran.”

“Did I? She was testing me, and I cannot tell whether I passed.” So saying, Morrigan turned away closing the eluvian once more. 

“Now we must prepare to face Corypheus himself.” She turned back to Eilan. “It seems mother was right. The voices of the Well tell me I will be able to match his dragon. All that remains is for you to find him.” 

Eilan considered this as Morrigan left him and then he ran all the way to the War Council room. Just how Morrigan managed to beat him there remained unclear, and he glared vaguely at her as he caught his breath. He motioned for his advisors to gather at the table. They seemed vaguely amused but also eager for news. 

“Did you… Find what you need, Morrigan?” Leliana asked.

In a rather haughty, smug tone, Morrigan answered: “I can match the darkspawn magister’s dragon, yes. As for matching Corypheus… That is up to you, Inquisitor.”

Eilan nodded. “Believe me, I know.”

“A challenge you’re more than capable of facing,” Cullen put in. “All that remains is to find Corypheus before he comes to us.”

As they continued to explore options, there was suddenly a dazzling green light. The anchor sizzled with the same sort of light and magic as Eilan glanced down at his hand.

The Breach in the sky was slowly but surely expanding. Corypheus, it seemed, was no longer content to wait.

Eilan swallowed hard, wondering how it was that they’d run so quickly out of time. “He’s in the Valley of Sacred Ashes?”

“You either close to Breach once more,” Morrigan said, “or it swallows the world.”

The advisors looked from one another, speculative and vaguely grim.

“Inquisitor,” Cullen said, “we have no forces to send with you—We must wait for them to return from the Arbor Wilds.”

Eilan had his companions. He had Hawke, Fenris, and the Chargers. And he could send word to Anders and Maevaris. Or more simply send Dorian, Bull and Varric to fetch them. That would have to do. “I must go now, before it’s too late.”

“Then I will go with you,” Cullen suggested. "And we will gather the soldiers stationed here at the keep."

“I’d be glad to have you, Commander.”

And Eilan could tell the situation was serious for none of his advisors or even Morrigan so much as smiled.

*

The trek was by no means long, but it was rather arduous. The view did nothing to improve morale, of course. Far off in the Valley and what remained of Haven, the Breach had been growing, all around it red lyrium rose in jagged spikes and stones began to swirl in the air forming steps to the green rift.

When they all met up, Eilan could tell there were some tension amongst the diverse group. At least half of the group had no idea Anders was one of the other Tevinter mages joining them.

To simplify matters, Eilan divided the group up sending Maevaris, Anders, Stroud, and quite a number of Grey Wardens to help Morrigan as best they could. Bull, Cullen, Hawke, Eilan’s companions, and what Inquisition soldiers had been at Skyhold went with Eilan.

In what remained of the Temple, Corypheus stood, red, glowing orb in hand. “Tell me,” he asked, “where is your Maker now? Call him. Call down his wrath upon me. You cannot. For he does not exist.”

“Does he honestly think we’re here to have an existential crisis?” Hawke asked.

“I am Corypheus,” the darkspawn magister continued, “I shall deliver you from this lie in which you linger. Bow before your new god and be spared.”

“Never!” soldiers shouted.

“We’re good,” Bull added. “Thanks though.”

Using the orb, Corypheus unleashed a small company of demons. As they screeched and fought the few soldiers Eilan had rounded up, the ground and the temple began to rise.

“You have been most successful in foiling my plans,” Corypheus said, looking to Eilan. “But let us not forget what you are. A thief, in the wrong place at the wrong time, an interloper. A gnat. We shall prove here, once and for all, which of us is worthy of godhood.”

“Whether the Maker exists or not is not up for debate,” Eilan said. “Nor is it your chief concern. That would be me and the people who fight alongside me. We have come here to stop you, Corypheus. Nothing more.”

They stared intently at one another.

“I do not wish to be anything more than myself, and that is everything,” Eilan said. “If I am a mistake, I am glad to be one.” 

There was a roar and from the ruins of the temples and out from the red lyrium came Corypheus’s archdemon. It crept closer until it was grabbed and pinned by another dragon. Morrigan. Debris and smoke filled the air as the beasts fought and tumbled away. They flew off, chasing one another through the dark sky.

“A dragon,” Corypheus called out. “How clever of you. It will avail you nothing.”

Green magic poured down, lighting the ground around them and releasing more demons. 

Backlit by red lyrium, Corypheus began to glow a sinister, dark red. “You will fall as a warning to those who oppose my divine will.”

Eilan set up an ice wall as Corypheus moved towards him. “Handle the demons!” he yelled, sending a fireball at the darkspawn magister. “I will handle this.”

Corypheus chuckled, raising up the orb. “If you desire death, you shall have it.”

More green light brought with it more demons. And from out of the temple poured red templar behemoths. From the unstable ground beneath them came shards of red lyrium. 

Eilan fell back, moving swiftly away from the red rock as he rose to his feet.

“Feel my wrath, little wretch.”

A red, furious shade moved behind him, but before it could cut into him, it fell to the ground, smashed under a large sword. 

“Magisters never shut up,” Fenris said. “Nor do they fight alone. Watch your back, Inquisitor.” He nodded in Eilan’s direction before dashing off towards a larger group of demons. 

They were doing well until Morrigan fell from the sky with the archdemon hurtling after her. They both fell and Corypheus left them to fend off his pet. 

“There’s always dragons with you, kadan,” Bull said. “I love that.”

“The witch could be in pain! We have to help her!” Rainier cried out.

Eilan shoved the warrior back as the dragon spat out what seemed to be molten red lyrium. “Yes, well, dragon first.”

In truth, his spells really only provided Cole, Cassandra, and Cullen with the support they needed to exhaust the beast. The others fought off more demons, and some hurried over to see if Morrigan needed assistance.

In the end, with half of his companions injured or lying unconscious on the ground, Eilan slide underneath the archdemon. Using a spell similar to a Fade Step to dash by, he sawed into its flank and massive neck with a spirit sword. 

It fell, gnashing giant teeth and sizzling with red light. 

The strange light flew past them, up to the battlements where Corypheus was lurking. It struck him, not doubt increasing his power and the orb’s potency. He shone in the dark like a firebird on a pyre.

“Let it end here!” the magister shouted, arms still outstretched after receiving the dark magic from his corrupted dragon. “Let the skies boil! Let the world be rent asunder!”

“Oh, let us have a health potion first, you jackass,” Dorian muttered, handing one to Eilan. “You sit down and drink this, am I understood?”

“The others—”

“Are being seen to,” Anders said, handing him another health potion. “Save this for later, hm?”

Honestly it was odd being fussed over, but he drank the potion, smiling a bit when Bull ruffled his hair and Cullen staggered over to sit for a moment at his feet. 

“Maker’s Breath,” Cullen said quietly, setting a gloved hand on Eilan’s knee. “I am not sure how many dragons I care to tangle with.”

“At least three more,” Bull pointed out, stretching and rolling his large shoulders back. 

“Yes, well… only because I agreed to that already.”

*

They fought and followed Corypheus further into what remained of the temple, onto ledges and rocks. Broken stairs and battered battlements.

Above them, Corypheus screamed, “I will not allow it!”

Eilan almost felt bad for him. He’d been forsaken by his gods, forsaken by many of his followers, and was utterly mad from the red lyrium he’d exposed to. But he was lost, woken up from a sleep that never should have ended and doomed to die. What was it like to be a creature like that? To be so lonely and so single-minded? 

“He’s rather… pathetic,” Eilan said quietly, blinking and noticing Cullen’s hand on his shoulder. He’d stopped mid-way up a landing once he’d gotten lost in thought. “In a way. I wasn’t expecting that. When I first saw him, when I faced him down in Haven, I thought I would die and now… I should be frightened of him, I suppose, but all he's done and tried to do... It all amounts to nothing, Cullen. He’s going to die here, and I think he knows it. Or maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he really believes he’ll win.”

“Hubris,” Cullen murmured. “A common trait even outside of the Imperium. You have come along way since Haven, and it is important for you to recognize that. You need to remember that while Corypheus seems to be full of hot air, deranged magic, and far too much red lyrium, you’re brave and capable. Although he himself may amount to very little, _you_ amount to a great many things, my love. That’s all that matters in the end.”

Eilan smiled slightly, mulling this over. “Right. Thank you, Cullen.”

"Of course."

As they arrived at the next set of stairs, Corypheus spoke again. This time to Cole. “You dare come before me, demon?” Hot, bright red light poured out, washing over them before Eilan or any of the other mages could put up barriers.

“I am unbound,” Cole said, “and you are undone. ”

“Then die with the others.”

Cole chuckled. “I really don’t think so,” he said calmly before moving up the stairs. 

At the top of them, Corypheus awaited. Above him, the Breach was growing wider and wider, filling the sky. As if mimicking the rift he’d created, Corypheus began to grow larger, wielding fiercer magic and the bright red fire of the slain archdemon.

Underneath them was some sort of mosaic, either of an elven god or of something else. It was hard to say, and Eilan barely had time to glance at it as he altered between fighting and providing protective spells for the others.

As the fight wore off, Corypheus’ eyes began to glow and the orb rose above him, crackling and sizzling with power. He flung the light, the magic at Eilan who fell over, overwhelmed by the force of it. 

“Not like this!” Corypheus cried. “I have walked the halls of the Golden City, crossed the ages…” He seemed to be trying to pry the orb open, and although his magic was still strong, he seemed to be close to panicking. Dumat! Ancient ones! I beseech you!”

Calling on the gods he had already forsaken and would have gladly replaced. Like a templar who only prayed when he needed to be forgiven. Or a mage relying on blood magic in a desperate bid for survival. 

Eilan got to his feet, the anchor glowing green. 

Corypheus continued crying out to the heavens. His tone was furious and yet plaintive. “If you exist—if you ever truly existed—aid me now!”

Using rift magic, Eilan forced the orb out of Corypheus’ grasp and into his own.

The massive magister sank to his knees.

Using the orb and the anchor together, Eilan raised his hand towards the sky. Yellow light poured out from him up and towards the Breach. The entire sky crackled with green light. Then the heavens stilled, calming as the rift began to close and the green glow faded away. Depleted, the orb fell to the temple floor. 

Eilan moved closer to Corypheus. “There is no place for you here,” he said quietly, “Your gods cannot hear you, and I don’t believe anyone can aid you now. This is not your world. This is not your age. And I must make certain that it never is."

Eilan held the mark out in front of him, focusing on creating a rift to the Fade. Corypheus screamed, twisting up in on himself as he was pulled through the portal. And so ended the massive undertaking Eilan had began months and months ago in Haven.

He ran back to the others as the floating temple Corypheus had created began to fall out of the sky. Rocks, chunks of red lyrium, and parts of the temple crashed down, shattering against the ground and separating him from his companions. 

*

The temple must have fallen before they could leave it, for Eilan woke up alone on stones surrounded by bits of balcony and one large archway. He was alone, and there was rubble all around him. 

Eilan rose slowly to his feet, drinking the health potion Anders had given him. And then he walked through the debris until he spotted Solas who was bent over the orb, studying it in clear dismay. It was fragmented and smoldering. The orb's surface was no longer red or green nor was it shimmering with light. Instead it was just a dull black.

“I know you wanted the orb saved,” Eilan said quietly. “I’m so sorry.”

“It is not _your_ fault.” Solas rose to his feet. “It was not supposed to happen this way. But no matter what comes, I want you to know you shall always have my respect.” 

“Is this where we part ways?” Eilan asked.

“I am afraid that it is.”

“Inquisitor!” Cassandra called from somewhere in the distance. “Are you alive?”

Eilan glanced back as Solas set a hand in his shoulder.

“If we can meet again, we shall,” Solas said when Eilan was facing him once more. His expression was both curious and solemn. “That is what you want?”

“Yes. More than…Well, more than nearly anything.”

Solas stared at Eilan for a moment before nodding. “I will remember.”

Eilan wasn’t sure what to make of that, and although he doubted it was what Solas wanted, he gave the elf a small hug. It was one that Solas swiftly returned with a warm, fond embrace that continued even as Cassandra called out to him again.

“Thank you. And… goodbye,” Eilan managed, voice faltering slightly. He wanted to run, to leave this moment behind as if that would stop it from happening. He was oddly grateful to Cassandra for giving him a way to do so before he lost his composure completely. 

“ _Dareth shiral, da’len_ ,” Solas said, slowly moving away. “ _Ma melava halani. Ma serannas._ ”

Eilan turned, heading towards the others. He thought Solas added something like “ _Ir abelas_ ,” but he wasn’t entirely sure. He knew what most of it meant. _Farewell. Child. Thank you. Sorrow._ And it all seemed appropriate.

“I’m here!” Eilan shouted as he moved towards the sound of Cassandra’s voice. She was still looking for him, and he knew the others were as well. "I'm alive!"

He eventually found a staircase and headed down it slowly. He felt a bit worn out, but it was his heart that felt heavy. That was until he saw all of his friends. Whole and well. And smiling. Because they’d won, and they’d done it together. Eilan wiped at his face while he was still a safe distance from them, and then quickened his pace.

“Victorious, I see,” Morrigan said. She was leaning rather heavily on Hawke. “What a novel result.”

“And look at you,” Bull said, striding forward. “All not dead. Nice work, kadan.”

Eilan smiled, deciding he honestly didn’t care what anyone thought as he moved closer to Bull and hugged him. “It’s pretty great.”

“And it seems the Breach is finally closed,” Morrigan added.

“Yes,” Eilan said, breathing out a sigh of relief as Bull stroked his hair. He pulled away gently, glancing up at the sky. “At long last.”

“What do we do now?” Cassandra asked.

Eilan glanced behind towards the temple, but Solas was, of course, gone. He glanced back to his friends, patting Bull’s arm before moving away from him. He slung one arm around one of Cullen’s shoulders and the other around one of Cassandra’s. 

“We go home,” he announced. “That is... We return to Skyhold.”

“Home works,” Bull assured him. “And hey, let’s not lean on those two. They’re all injured and shit. Here.” He picked Eilan up gently, placing him on his shoulders. “Maybe get some sleep up there on the way back?”

“Maybe,” Eilan agreed, holding lightly onto one of Bull's horns. After all, he’d earned some rest. 

“Wait,” Dorian said with a frown. “Where’s Solas?”

Eilan looked down for a moment before looking out at his companions. “Gone,” he said mournfully, “I know not where.”

For the first part of their trip home, Eilan didn’t sleep. He couldn’t. He brushed his fingers over Bull’s horns and cheek instead, smiling wearily as he glanced out over the men and women assembled from his Qunari vantage point. 

The Inquisition had lost some good men and women, soldiers, Grey Wardens… His Inner Circle had survived. Many of them were injured, but all of them seemed either on the mend or at least capable of travel. And Eilan was only able to nod off, when he was certain that every one of his remaining companions was present and accounted for.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Dareth shiral, da’len._ – Safe journey, child.  
>  _Ma melava halani. Ma serannas._ – You have helped me. Thank you.  
>  _Ir abelas._ – I am sorry.
> 
> Writing any sort of goodbye with Solas and Eilan was tough, but I didn't want him to just leave. I wanted there to be a little more to it. Hopefully his departure still works.
> 
> One more chapter plus the epilogue tomorrow. Thanks, as always, for reading!


	48. Chapter 48

*

Back at Skyhold, the Inquisition forces had returned and rallied together to welcome their victorious leader and his companions. They were joined by soldiers stationed at the keep, Grey Wardens, mages, templars, and countless other allies. All of them creating quite an uproar when Eilan and his companions arrived at the gates. 

He’d been brought back to the courtyard where they’d given him his title, and there the rest of his inner circle were waiting.

He strode up to them, taking the stone stairs two at a time with Cullen close behind him. 

Although it was mildly embarrassing when the advisors bowed to him, Eilan smiled fondly at them, gesturing for them to rise. 

“Thank you,” he said, embracing the women in turn. When Cullen went to shake his hand, he hugged him as well. He also took a moment to smile down at Bull who was watching him from the crowd. “For everything.” 

“As if this was even close to the end of it,” Josephine said, but she seemed pleased. 

And, all the same, Eilan repeated the sentiment with the men and women assembled. “I’d be glad to make a speech,” he said, “Only perhaps after we’ve celebrated.”

The applause and shouting he was met with suggested that no one could find fault in his reasoning. In fact, no one seemed eager to do anything but rejoice over their success. The celebration continued inside of Skyhold and long into the night. 

Eilan went from one member of the Inner Circle to the next, happy to speak to all of them and sad to realize that not just Solas would be taking his leave. Vivienne seemed prepared to leave as soon as the next Divine was announced although she did hope they would keep in touch. Varric was willing to linger for a time, but he planned to return to Kirkwall. Unfinished business, and Hawke had expressed an interest in was returning there. Thankfully those difficult goodbyes could wait for another day. 

Anders and Maevaris had slipped away hours ago on the road, but he knew he’d see them again soon. It was just that the less time they could spend around Cassandra and members of the Southern Chantry, the better. That would change in time. Eilan would see to it, but, like so many other things, he couldn’t force a pardon or understanding in regardless to Anders. Not overnight. 

Where Morrigan was… Well, it was difficult to say where she went as the celebrations began, but Eilan hadn’t really expected her to linger. He just hoped she traveled safely and that, one day, he would hear from her again. 

Sera wanted to stay, which wasn't surprising. Rainier, of course, had to remain, but Eilan doubted the man would have left anyway. And despite what many of the other companions seemed to feel, Eilan was glad of it. Rainier was loyal, hard-working, and a real asset. More importantly, someday when Thom Rainier would be a bit more at peace with the man he had become, Eilan would be there to see it. 

Cassandra was still being considered for Divine, but she'd already made it clear she would remain with the Inquisition one way or another. It would difficult for her to abandon the group she had created. And, of course, Eilan's advisors would stay. He imagined Bull would stay although they hadn’t discussed it.

“You haven’t asked me. You haven’t asked if I will stay, but I will. I won’t leave,” Cole said once Eilan found him. “I wouldn’t leave you.”

“Oh, Cole. I’m sorry. I just assumed you'd... Forgive me, I ought to have asked you. If you wanted to leave—”

Cole shook his head. “I do not,” he said. "I do not want to leave you."

“Still…”

“You didn’t want to know,” Cole pointed out. “I do not wish for you to feel guilty or troubled. That you thought I would remain and took comfort in that fact... It means a great deal to me. Moreover, I wish to thank you.” 

“Why?”

Cole smiled. “For allowing me to be myself. I cannot become a monster, I cannot be bound. And when he tried, he failed. And now he’s dead, and I remain free.”

Eilan smiled back. “And you’ll remain that way. You’re my friend, Cole. I’m glad to have helped, and I’m so glad you’ll stay. The Inquisition is just getting started.”

“You help and I can help. That is what I want.” Cole fiddled with the brim of his hat for a moment. “There is… There is one more thing that I would like.”

“What’s that?” Eilan asked, and then he laughed as Cole hugged him somewhat fiercely. Cole was surprisingly strong, and Eilan chuckled again as his friend nearly lifted him off the ground. “I see. Um. You don’t have to carry me around though.”

“The Iron Bull does.”

“Yes, well…” Eilan shrugged as he was set back down on his feet. “That’s Bull for you. So. How is it then? This hugging business.”

“Quite nice,” Cole decided before letting Eilan go. “Was it nice? It is what friends do?”

“It was very nice,” Eilan agreed. “And it certainly is what friends do.”

He found Dorian in a corner, sipping wine and watching the others celebrate. 

“Come sit,” Dorian insisted, and Eilan was only too eager to join him. Dorian poured out drinks, and offered up some sort of toast in Tevene.

Proper or not, Eilan clinked his glass against Dorian’s and drank. Then they sat there at the wooden table, smiling at one another and listening to other conversations.

Well, I shan’t be going back to Tevinter any time soon,” Dorian said eventually and after clearing his throat. 

"No?”

“No. I can hardly live in someone else’s home. Not when I have my own here with you.”

“It really is home,” Eilan said, glancing around fondly at the stone walls surrounding them. The imported stained glass windows. Even what he’d come to think of as the judgmental throne. “I never thought I’d have one. Not again, anyway.”

“Right. So I’ll stay.”

Eilan nearly chuckled, but instead he focused back on Dorian and smiled warmly. “That is so good of you. You have to promise though,” he said, finding it not very difficult to adopt a slightly imploring tone. “Swear that you mean it. You can’t change your mind tomorrow because I sincerely need you here.”

“Yes, yes,” Dorian said, rather dismissively. But he was smiling as he sipped his wine. “I promise. I swear. Whatever you’d like. I must remain. I honestly have no choice.”

“Oh?”

“There is much in Tevinter that I will always miss,” Dorian began, “The beautiful warm weather, the fashion sense, the varieties of wine, the literature, the range of architecture, the historical feel of it all, the—” Dorian stopped, laughing as he took in Eilan’s glum expression. “What’s wrong?”

“Did you have a point?” Eilan asked somewhat testily. “Or must I listen to Tevinter’s many virtues all night long?”

“All right. My point,” Dorian said with a smirk. “I may have to visit my homeland from time to time, and I will certainly miss it. But there is something here in this miserable, shit-heap of a country that I simply cannot do without.”

“What’s that?” Eilan prompted.

“You.”

“Me?” Eilan asked quietly.

“You,” Dorian repeated, helping himself to more wine. Then he poured another glass for Eilan. “Tevinter is lacks to presence of my best and only friend. It’ll keep.”

“Oh, Dorian.”

“Oh, Inquisitor, it can be no surprise that you have come to mean a great deal to me. So don’t you go and ruin everything by--” Dorian sighed as Eilan hugged him. “Too late then.”

“You mean it and it’s so kind of you,” Eilan said, continuing to embrace Dorian tightly. 

Dorian didn’t return it at first so much as he gingerly patted Eilan’s shoulder. Then he pulled Eilan closer, hugging him firmly. “Yes, yes, you’re very maudlin, aren’t you?”

“I’m so glad you’ll stay,” Eilan said, letting go slowly and rarely reluctantly. “I can’t be your best and only friend though.”

“You can be, and you are. Maevaris is family, you see. Not the one I was born into, mind you, but she’s the only family I can stand.”

“I’ll try to be worthy of being your friend.”

“As if there’s any cause for concern,” Dorian wryly replied. “But if you’re looking for pointers, darling? More killing and less hugging would be a good start.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

*

Eilan eventually headed towards his own quarters. He was certain Cullen and Bull would join him there either one at a time or together. 

“Managed to slip away?” Cullen asked from behind him. “I thought I might claim more of your attention, after all.”

Eilan smiled, coloring slightly as Cullen smirked at him. That boyish, charming expression got him every time. “There’s only one slight problem.”

“What’s that, sweetheart?”

“I’m not sure you could claim much more of it or me.”

“You’d be very surprised then.” Cullen gently herded Eilan back towards the door and then to his quarters. 

He laughed when Cullen pushed him back down onto their bed, kissing him savagely and then gently as the sun began to rise somewhere behind them. 

“The battle’s over,” Cullen said between kisses. “There will be a new Divine. Yet I don’t care about anything besides you being alive.”

“And you’re alive too,” Eilan pointed out. “And with me.”

“Thank you. For the second chance you gave me. A real chance. I don’t know if I would have done the same for me.”

“That’s because you don’t love you as much as I do,” Eilan gently replied, pulling Cullen down on top of him and kissing his cheek. “But we’re working on that.”

“We are,” Cullen admitted. “I am.”

Eilan moved back, stretching out on the mattress. Cullen followed him, and they lay there silently, tangled up in one another. “Would you sing me something?”

“Right now?”

“Later.”

“All right.”

“And I have to ask you something.”

“If it’s about leaving, I am going to kiss you until you forget all about it.”

“It’s not. It’s… Can… you give me more time to come up with a present for you?”

Cullen blinked. He propped himself up on one elbow, glancing down at Eilan. “Whatever are you talking about?”

“I want so badly to give you and Bull something, but…There hasn’t been much time.”

“I wonder why,” Cullen wryly replied.

“That’s no excuse,” Eilan insisted. “I love you both so much, and you’ve given me so much. And I tried, Cullen, to come up with a gift for you. For this moment. Because I couldn’t have gotten here without you. But it would have been with supplies you gathered. Materials the Inquisition purchased. And I still don’t know what it would be. I suppose I don’t have the experience. Most of the gifts I’ve been given have been from you or from Bull.”

“You mustn’t look at it that way,” Cullen said. “Now you’ve the time to sort it out. And, this isn’t just empty words, my love, but the time I spend with you is more precious than a gift would be. To have this, with anyone let alone you… It’s nothing sort of miraculous.”

“Still…”

Cullen sighed then he chuckled. “Maker, sometimes I forget how young you are. Sweetheart, please don’t worry about it. I’m not going anywhere, and I never meant for my gifts to cause you this sort of anguish.”

“I just want you to know how much you mean to me. All of the time.”

“I’m not sure how you’d expect me to forget,” Cullen pointed out. “But for now just keep reminding me, hm?”

“I can do that.”

“Good.”

*

At some point they fell asleep. Eilan woke up in the early hours of the morning. He smiled when he saw that Bull was with them, passed out on the couch nearby. He kissed Cullen's cheek, smoothing back his hair. Then Eilan got out of bed, going over to his Qunari.

Rather than wake him up, Eilan curled up next to Bull on the couch, pulling a large arm around him. He stayed like that for a minute, enjoying the quiet and being with the two men he loved. Then he leaned up to kiss Bull’s stubbled chin.

Bull blinked, yawning loudly before looking sheepish. “Hey, kadan.”

“Hello. Um. Can I ask you something?”

Bull raised an eyebrow. “Right now? Okay. What’s on your mind?”

“You have to know first that it’s a stupid question.”

“Okay, I’ll brace myself. So again... What’s on your mind?” Bull asked again.

“You’re… going to stay, right?”

Bull blinked before frowning.

“It’s just… Some people are leaving. And Solas left. And I never asked most of the others. And I never asked you. I just assumed--”

“You figured I'd stay," Bull said, "and you were right. I want to go where you go. I want to be where you are. That's what 'kadan' means. I’m not leaving. Besides, if I left, who’s going to look after you and Cullen? No one and that's bad. Humans are terrible at taking care of themselves. Ask anyone.”

Eilan smiled slightly. “Beyond that?”

“Beyond that, we fight dragons all the time. And we killed this ancient old Vint together. Beyond all of that, I love you. You’re home so… There’s nowhere I’d rather be. What about you?”

Eilan blinked and laughed. “Me?”

“Yeah,” Bull leaned over slightly, kissing Eilan’s hair. “I bet no one's asked so here's me asking. Are you gonna stay? You ought to. Because I kinda need you badly and all the time.”

“I’d never leave you. Or Cullen. And I really have come to think of Skyhold as home. Or, least, having my lovers and my friends here has made this place my home.”

“Well, there you go then. Besides, if I do leave…” Bull trailed off, digging around in his pockets. “Hold that thought. Ah. Here it is. If I do leave, who am I going to give these to?”

The dark wooden box was small, but quite heavy. Eilan slid the lid back and smiled. There were ten rings. They were primarily made of silverite. Nearly all of them had dawnstone of some sort although a few had nevarrite instead.

“Figured we’d start you off with ten. But I’ll get you more. Maybe some earrings. Or something.”

“They’re so pretty. Although... They are quite pink, dear.”

“I like pink. And… you don’t want to know who they belonged to originally,” Bull said. 

Eilan smiled, petting Bull’s cheek and then his nose. “I wouldn’t dream of asking.”

“Good cuz we’ve been busy and I spent most of my money on that nuggalope. So I thought… Hey, waste not, want not. But I cleaned 'em and all that. And like I said, I’ll get you more. Hell, I’ll learn how to make ‘em.”

Eilan laughed. “I love you.”

Bull grinned. “I love you too. And we did it. Pretty fucking incredible. By the way, I guess everyone’s expecting another speech today.”

“From me?”

“Yeah.”

Eilan sighed. “Really?”

“Just giving you a heads up. Gonna have to get you cleaned and in something shiny. Then we'll send you back out there.”

Eilan shook his head. He got to his feet and headed towards the open windows. “Maybe I can hide out on the balcony.”

Bull trailed after him. “Pretty sure they can find you out here, kadan.”

Eilan glanced out at the mountains and sunrise in front of him. Then he looked up at Bull. “I could hide behind a curtain.”

“Even so.” Bull gently tugged Eilan to him, pinning him to the wall and kissing him. “Mm. There. Been needing that badly too.”

“It’s good to be needed.”

“Yes.” Bull kissed him again before smiling. He set a large hand around Eilan’s waist and then he said: “You’ve stood strong in the face of everything. Never flinched. You are the toughest, wisest, most beautiful person I’ve ever met, kadan. And I can’t tell you how proud I’m gonna be, watching you out there, addressing the whole Inquisition with this big old love bite on your neck.”

Eilan laughed even as Bull leaned in, biting gently at his neck. And then a little harder. “You ass,” he said fondly. “Pink rings and love bites… No one will ever take me seriously again.”

Bull picked him up, kissing him some more before grinning. “Trust me, after all of this? After the last few days? Everyone’s gonna take you seriously. They’re gonna have to.”

“I suppose they will. I… Thank you, Bull.”

“It’s just the truth.”

Eilan shook his head, kissing Bull’s nose and brushing fingers over his horns. “No, I mean… Even in the beginning, you helped me. You didn’t have to. But you did.”

“Couldn’t have felt any differently. You were this little pretty thing, and I wanted you to be okay. But I had no idea what I was getting myself into, and now I’m the lucky one. And you’re not a pretty little thing. You’re everything and you change everything for everyone. You’ve changed a lot for me... Don’t know if I wanted that exactly, but I’m glad it’s what happened.”

“Hm.” Eilan fingered the mark on his neck. “I guess you’d better help me get ready. And then we ought to wake up Cullen.”

“He’d probably want to hear your speech and see the rings,” Bull agreed. “One more kiss. Or, uh, maybe a dozen more. Okay?”

“As many more as you’d like.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just the epilogue left. I will post that shortly.


	49. Epilogue

*

In the months since that last battle, Cassandra had become Divine and Eilan had watched many of his companions leave Skyhold. No word had come from Solas although Cole had tried on more than one occasion. Rainier had decided to take part in the Joining, and he’d passed with flying colors.

Among Eilan’s own achievements, he had been closing rifts throughout Thedas and facilitating meetings between various Circles of Magi to create some standards in terms of education. The greatest achievement, however, was a more recent development - reversing the Rite of Tranquility for those who had consented to it.

It was remarkable what magic could accomplish, but between Solas’ notes, Cole’s compassionate efforts and Anders’ Creation spells, they’d been able to reverse the Rite for Clemence and then for Maddox. The space between rituals was necessary to allow for recovery. 

Clemence did not have any family and the transition was painful. There was no good way to get back the world that had been stolen from you, and there was always the risk that he wouldn’t be able to handle the change. But after a time, he’d been able to do more besides hide in his room, clinging to Eilan, and being startled by his own abilities. 

Already Clemence had begun to interact with other mages. The brand on his forehead would remain, but he was capable of feeling and capable of learning to use his magic. While they were helping Maddox, Clemence was training in the courtyard with Dorian who was a patient teacher. Clemence would never be much of a mage, but now he would continue to be a skilled alchemist. More importantly, now he could be his own person.

The ritual and vigil over Maddox had taken longer. Eilan was seated between Anders and Samson and neither man was speaking. Anders because he was concentrating so intently and Samson because, well, he couldn’t contribute in any meaningful way. Not yet. Cole was closer to Maddox, hands pressed gently to the Tranquil’s temples. A majority of the work was up to him. 

While Cole remaining at Skyhold was no surprise, Anders had been able to do the same albeit on a more temporary basis. He was a good sounding-board and provided excellent advice. After all, his perspective and experience with Circles, templars, and other mages was quite different than Eilan’s own.

Anders was more often in Tevinter with Maevaris. than in any other country. And while he was in Skyhold, his identity remained somewhat of a secret and entirely innocuous. Whether he wanted a pardon or not was difficult to say, but Eilan was slowly working his way to asking Cassandra for one. 

Time seemed to pass quickly and then slowly as Cole moved back from Maddox. 

The mage’s eyelids fluttered once then twice. He bolted upright, gasping as if he’d been close to drowning. 

Once he opened his eyes, Maddox hadn’t screamed the way Clemence or Eilan himself had. He just smiled and then he cried, taking it all in. 

“It’s been so long,” he said as Anders and Eilan helped him sit up. “It’s all so bright. And I feel…” Maddox stared down at this hands. “I can feel things. And...Samson.”

Samson had been watching silently. His expression was hard to read. Eilan suspected he was simply overwhelmed. After all they’d done and been through, Eilan also imagined Samson was afraid to hope despite that fact that he was doing just that.

“Maddox,” he said, voice rough with emotion.

Maddox held a hand out. “You kept me with you. No matter what.”

“I would never abandon you. You’d never… You’d never do that to me,” Samson managed, moving closer and then crouching down next to his friend. He took Maddox’s hand in his, brushing his fingers over the back of it. Then Samson kissed the mark on Maddox’s forehead. “I guess we’re never to be entirely free of this.”

“It was never your fault,” Maddox said quietly, moving until he was in Samson’s arms. “I’ve missed you. I wanted to understand. Because I made you sad, I know I did. I wanted to remember. I wanted to be the person you knew. And I wasn’t. I wasn’t enough. But I tried to protect you. I tried,and I would have done more but you wouldn’t let me.”

“No one has ever done more for me,” Samson insisted, stroking Maddox’s back. “No one, you hear? And you were that person I knew and remembered. You’ve always been. But… I missed you just the same. Fuck, but I missed you laughing at my jokes. The good ones anyway. You’ve always been picky.”

Maddox managed a laugh, but beyond that, he seemed able to do very little besides clutch at his friend and try to sob quietly. There was so much to remember. So much taken from him. So much he’d lost and could never reclaim. And yet there was so much he could have again.

Eilan couldn’t remember those first few days after he’d been in the Fade and freed from his own Tranquil state, but he imagined his situation had been much the same. Solas, Varric, Cullen, and the others watched over him much like this using kind words and soft songs to soothe him. Never understanding but always wanting to be enough to make the pain less and the change easier to endure.

So much had changed, so much would keep changing, but underneath it all people were very much the same. Mages, Grey Wardens, Templars… Even the enemies he’d had to defeat and occasionally kill. They just wanted happiness, a chance to be themselves. To be able to give that back to someone else, anyone else… That was all that mattered. That was everything.

Watching them hold tightly to one another, Eilan felt every bit as victorious as he had in the Valley of Sacred Ashes. 

*

They had originally Maddox settled in a small room in the tower the mages were still using. Many would return to the Circles, but new locations, curriculums, and rules were still being sorted out. Many, Eilan suspected, would not in any particular hurry and would remain with the Inquisition. They would, finally have the luxury of a simple choice.

In the end, it had been too difficult to separate Maddox from Samson. Eilan had opted instead to give them a small room near Cullen’s tower office. Guards were not as necessary for Samson who, despite giving up lyrium, was a good deal weaker than he had been. He wasn’t entirely ill, but he wasn’t entirely well. He was in training under Cullen’s watchful eye, and he’d seemed eager to help Dagna and Eilan as best he could.

As Eilan closed the door to Maddox’s new quarters, he smiled again. Samson had begun to talk more animatedly. Maddox was watching him hopefully, his hands absently folding a piece of paper into the shape of a small bird.

Anders moved to the stairs. He lingered there for a moment, fingers idly inspecting the railing. Then he turned around to face Eilan. “Thank you, Inquisitor.”

“I should thank you and Cole.”

“You have. More than once. Several times on the way over here.”

“I can’t help it,” Eilan insisted. “You have done so much for Clemence and Maddox. I helped, but you can have done just as well with another assistant.”

“No other assistant would have wanted me,” Anders pointed out. “No other leader would have asked for my help or trusted me with Solas’ notes. You may not realize how much you’ve done. I’m not sure we ever see the true scope of how our actions affect the people or world around us, but I shall always be aware of what you’ve achieved. I will always be in your debt. To be able to see any of this… It’s truly a blessing. I’m not sure I could ever thank you enough.”

“Then you’re welcome. Truly. And I am glad to have you here.”

“Once we’ve done more of these rituals, you’ll have to make do without me. For a handful of months at least.”

“That long?”

“Yes. The Imperial Senate is back in session soon. I can’t have my wife going off to Minrathous without me.”

Eilan chuckled. “As if she’d let me keep you here.”

“That,” Anders said with a smile, “is also an excellent point.”

When Anders left either for his own temporary quarters or to find Maevaris or both,  
Eilan wandered through the keep. 

He paused as he entered the main hall, sighingas scouts began the process of mounting several stuffed dragon heads to the wall. Three for the three of them, Bull had said. It seemed they would be living near the mosiac pieces and over the large fireplace.

“Must you?” Dorian groused, joining Eilan in front of the throne. “Bright blue, orange, and red... _Kaffas_. It makes the place look like an ogre’s hunting lounge.”

“Doesn’t it remind you of home?”

“Not particularly. Just… why here?”

“It’s either the main hall or my own quarters. Just be glad I didn’t add them to the library or Solas’ old room.” 

“Nowhere would have been best,” Dorian murmured. “Regardless of their location, I shall have to see them virtually every day. Although... there is one benefit to it.”

“What’s that?” Outside of making Bull happy and being able to provide Cullen with a proper, meaningful gift, Eilan wasn’t sure what that could be. 

“And if you added just one more, it will finally be clear to the common folk that you’ve killed all my invisible Old God allies.”

Eilan chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

With that, he patted Dorian’s shoulder and headed back outside. 

*

Bull and Cullen were in the garden playing chess when Eilan found them. He watched them for a minute, feeling oddly overwhelmed before he joined them, touching each of their cheeks in turn.

“How’d it go?” Bull asked when Eilan sat down next to him.

“So well. It was… I’m so happy for him. It’s a lot to take in but… He’ll manage. I think Samson will make it easier,” Eilan admitted reluctantly, glancing at Cullen. “Like you did for me.”

“Like Cullen did?”

“He sang to me at night. Um. Held me. I thought I told you.”

“No,” Bull said, eying Cullen fondly. “You’re not so bad, Commander.”

“Yes, well, I’d be even better if you’d take your turn.”

“And I’d be a lot quicker if you’d agreed to play strip chess,” Bull pointed out. “And… It’s hard to care about this match when he’s looking watery.”

Eilan sniffed, frowning slightly. “I’m not watery,” he said, resisting the urge to wipe at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Just… Maddox deserved so much better than he was given, and we’ve been able to help him. And It’s a good thing. Such a good thing, and… All right, I’m watery. Only a bit, mind you.”

Bull kissed his cheek. 

“You’re allowed to be given the circumstances,” Cullen said. He stroked a finger over the dragon tooth around his neck, before pushing his chair away from the table. “I’ll forfeit.”

“Nah,” Bull said with a shrug. “We’ll call it a draw.”

“Very well.” Cullen moved his chair over to Eilan’s, pulling Eilan closer and into his arms. 

Eilan stroked his fingers over the fur on Cullen’s pauldrons as Cullen kissed him. One of Bull’s hands rested against the small of Eilan’s back, the fingers of the other hand carding through Eilan’s hair. 

“I’m sorry,” Eilan murmured, working to regain his composure. 

“Don’t you dare be sorry,” Cullen insisted. “I love you, and Bull loves you. And you’re you. Still you. You are remarkable, kind, and good man allowing for others to be the same. That won’t change. Ever. Neither one of us would allow it.” 

He’d said as much after Clemence’s Rite had been reversed. Eilan rather hoped Cullen would continue to say so every time.

“You’re safe, and you’re perfect,” Bull agreed, ruffling Eilan’s hair. “Not sure I love anyone as much as I love you, kadan. Although… I guess I’m fond of Cullen.”

Cullen snorted. “As always, I thank you for your charitable review.”

“No problem. Probably ought to check up on your friend later. Right now though? Right now it might be time for food and some looking after.”

“I’d love that, and I want that,” Eilan decided, smiling at both his lovers in turn. “I always will.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About halfway through Share Your Silence, I realized I wanted a scene of Eilan helping/watching someone else being freed from their Tranquility. I tried to fit it in earlier, but it made more sense as a conclusion. I like when things come full circle. And I like a meaningful happy ending.
> 
> I can't believe the fic is over. More fic will be happening, of course. I will certainly be writing more fic inside and outside of this 'verse. I suspect I'll be writing smaller fics possibly from Cullen's and Bull's POV. I had a lot of other ideas that just didn't make it in to this that I'd still like to work with. And I'm also debating a sequel.
> 
> But one more time I'd like to say thank you. Thank you for reading, commenting, kudos-ing, messaging me, encouraging me, etc. I can't tell you how much writing this fic and seeing reactions has meant to me. I started this fic when I was in a fairly miserable place. It's seen me through a lot, and I'll miss it a great deal.


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